A June in Childhood.
I stood in the flush of an evening in June
When leafage and blossom and fragrance triune,
Crown this, of the months, the most queenly and fair;
The clover and roses had poured on the air
A nectar I drank with enjoyment rare;
Baptized in this flood of ecstatic delight
My child eyes were blessed with miraculous sight.
O, gladly I’d yield up the wisdom of years,
If gazing out now, thro’ the mist of my tears,
I could think as I tho’t in that beautiful dream,
That the gates were ajar, and the shimmer and gleam
Of golden-paved streets on that silvery stream,
“The River of Life”—shining thro’ in the west,
Gave us a bright glimpse of the home of the blest.
I saw, as I gazed with my dream-lighted eyes,
A broad, gilded stairway let down from the skies,
And angels came out with their robings of white,
All ’broidered and shining with flosses of light,
And bound on each brow with a coronet bright,
Was a veil of soft gossamer, fold upon fold,
With amethyst border, and flutings of gold.
And spread on the sky, to my glorified view,
Was a foam crested ocean, pavillioned with blue;
Bright islands of azure thro’ cloud-rifts were seen,
Then sunk, like Atlantis, in billowy sheen:
While ships, that I fancied from shores evergreen,
Afloat on its bosom, at anchor would ride,
Or cut with their prows thro’ the rose-tinted tide.
Some angels sailed far, where the cloud-waves grew dark,
In boats that were graceful as gondolier’s barque,
And those I tho’t sailing far over the seas
To watch over missions and little Burmese;
Then others swept down, where the glory-crowned trees
Hid them on the stairs, but I knew from that band
Some went to each household, all over the land,
Where children would whisper “I lay me to sleep,
Send angels dear Father, my spirit to keep
Thro’ midnight and darkness, to guard me from harm,
To give me sweet dreams, and to shield from alarm—
To watch me till morning dawns, rosy and warm,
Or, dying before, let them bear me above
To the bosom of Jesus, on pinions of love.”
* * * * *
These memories float in on the fragrance to night,
While sunset is veiling in glory the light,
And seasons, repeating in cyclical rune,
Bring forward in beauty, rose-garlanded June;
All earth seems an altar with flowers o’erstrewn—
’Tis Nature’s thank offering—my heart is in tune
With her grand De Profundis, now rolling in praise;
Send angels, dear Father, a grown-up child prays,
And a rose-wreathed June for my sunset of days.