Lookback

When June is here- what art have we to sing
  The whiteness of lilies midst the green
  On non-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen
Like redbirds' wings? Or earliest ripening
Prince-Harvest apples, where the closed bees cling
  Round winey juices oozing down between
  The pickings of the Robin, while we lean
In under-grasses, lost in marveling?
 Or the cool term of morning, and the stir
Of odorous breaths from wood and meadow walks,
 The bobwhite's liquid yodel, and the whir
Of sudden flight

James Whitcomb Riley 

Dec 11 I am unable to upload a photo