  LILACS glow, and jasmines climb, Larks are loud the livelong day. O the golden summer-prime! June takes up the sceptre of May, And the land beneath her sway Glows, a dream of flowerful closes, And the very wind’s at play With Sir Love among the roses. Lights and shadows in the lime Meet in exquisite disarray. Hark! the rich recurrent rhyme Of the blackbird’s roundelay! Where he carols, frank and gay, Fancy no more glooms or proses; Joyously she flits away O the cool sea’s slumbrous chime! O the links that beach the bay, Tricked with meadow-sweet and thyme, Where the brown bees murmur and stray! Lush the hedgerows, ripe the hay! Many a maiden, binding posies, Finds herself at Yea-and-Nay With Sir Love among the roses. ENVOYBoys and girls, be wise, I pray! Do as dear Queen June proposes, For she bids you troop and stay With Sir Love among the roses. W. E. Henley. |
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