Poems (Radford)/June

For works with similar titles, see June.
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VIII June
The skies are blue O'er the meadow now,And the leaves are new On the willow-bough,While the glad earth sings In one joyous tune,All the happy things Of the happy June.
Oh the joyous time Of the fresh sweet June,And the happy rhyme That must die so soon; ​But again—again— When the years are young,Will the sweet refrain Be sung—be sung.
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