July

WHEN the scarlet cardinal tells Her dream to the dragon fly, Andthe lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees And murmurs alullaby, It is July. When the tangled cobweb pulls The cornflower's cap awry, And the lilies tall lean over the wall To bow to the butterfly, It is July. THE FRINGED GENTIAN i When the heat like a mist veil floats, And poppies flame in the rye, And the silver note in the streamlet's throat Has softened almost to a sigh, It is July. When the hours are so still that time Forgets them, and lets them lie 'Neath petals pink till the night stars wink At the sunset in the sky, It is July. When each finger-post by the way Says that Slumbertown is nigh; When the grass is tall, and the roses fall, Andnobody wonders why, It is July.