June

I GAZED upon the glorious sky

And the green mountains round

And thought that when I came to lie

At rest within the ground

'T were pleasant that in flowery June 5

When brooks send up a cheerful tune

And groves a joyous sound

The sexton's hand my grave to make

The rich green mountain-turf should break.

A cell within the frozen mould 10

A coffin borne through sleet

And icy clods above it rolled

While fierce the tempests beat—

Away!—I will not think of these—

Blue be the sky and soft the breeze 15

Earth green beneath the feet

And be the damp mould gently pressed

Into my narrow place of rest.

There through the long long summer hours

The golden light should lie 20

And thick young herbs and groups of flowers

Stand in their beauty by.

The oriole should build and tell

His love-tale close beside my cell;

The idle butterfly 25

Should rest him there and there be heard

The housewife bee and humming-bird.

And what if cheerful shouts at noon

Come from the village sent

Or song of maids beneath the moon 30

With fairy laughter blent?

And what if in the evening light

Betrothèd lovers walk in sight

Of my low monument?

I would the lovely scene around 35

Might know no sadder sight nor sound.

I know that I no more should see

The season's glorious show

Nor would its brightness shine for me

Nor its wild music flow; 40

But if around my place of sleep

The friends I love should come to weep

They might not haste to go.

Soft airs and song and light and bloom

Should keep them lingering by my tomb. 45

These to their softened hearts should bear

The thought of what has been

And speak of one who cannot share

The gladness of the scene;

Whose part in all the pomp that fills 50

The circuit of the summer hills

Is that his grave is green;

And deeply would their hearts rejoice

To hear again his living voice.