All in June
| All in June
written by William Henry Davies
|From "The Loneliest Mountain", 1939||Link to further information|
A week ago I had a fire
To warm my feet, my hands and face;
Cold winds, that never make a friend,
Crept in and out of every place.
Today the fields are rich in grass,
And buttercups in thousands grow;
I'll show the world where I have been -
With gold-dust seen on either shoe.
Till to my garden back I come,
Where bumble-bees for hours and hours
Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,
To wriggle out of hollow flowers.
|This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.|