'T is borne on the zephyr at eventide's hour;
3It falls on the heart like the dew on the flower, — An infinite essence from tropic to pole, The promise, the home, and the heaven of Soul.
6Hope happifies life, at the altar or bower, And loosens the fetters of pride and of power; It comes through our tears, as the soft summer rain,
9To beautify, bless, and make joyful again.
The harp of the minstrel, the treasure of time; A rainbow of rapture, o'erarching, divine;
12The God-given mandate that speaks from above,— No place for earth's idols, but hope thou, and love.
15"The flowers of June The gates of memory unbar: The flowers of June
18Such old-time harmonies retune, I fain would keep the gates ajar, — So full of sweet enchantment are
21The flowers of June." JAMES T. WHITE
TO MR. JAMES T. WHITE
Who loves not June
3Is out of tune With love and God; The rose his rival reigns,
6The stars reject his pains, His home the clod!
And yet I trow,
9When sweet rondeau Doth play a part, The curtain drops on June;
12Veiled is the modest moon — Hushed is the heart.