O freshness, living freshness of a day
In June! Spring scarce has gotten out of sight,
And not a stain of wear shows on the grass
Beneath our feet, and not a dead leaf calls,
'Our day of loveliness is past and gone!'
I found the thick wood steeped in pleasant smells,
The dainty ferns hid in their sheltered nooks;
The wild-flowers found the sunlight where they stood,
And some hid their white faces quite away,
While others lifted up their starry eyes
And seemed right glad to ruffle in the breeze.
