  High overhead, By summer breezes sped, From every latest burgeoned bough The last, spring petals fall; And red, red, red, Along the garden bed, The poppy plants are holding now Their crimson carnival. Clear, sweet, and strong, I hear the robin’s song, And catch the merry caroling Of some bold bobolink; And phlox flowers throng The garden ways along, While peonies and roses bring Their pageantries of pink. White, gold, and green, The lily spires are seen, And hollyhocks, in stately rows, With tufted buds are set; Tall, in between, The growing sunflowers lean, And thick the sweet alyssum shows Among the mignonette. Have you, then, gone astray, Unwitting that in realms of June Return were no avail? Ah, well-a-day! So wings the spring away; The summer’s ever oversoon, But June, sweet June, all hail!
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