to june by george macdonald - richard mitchley lyrics
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ah, truant, thou art here again, i see!
for in a season of such wretched weather
i thought that thou hadst left us altogether
although i could not choose but fancy thee
skulking about the hill*tops, whence the glee
of thy blue laughter peeped at times, or rather
thy bashful awkwardness, as doubtful whether
thou shouldst be seen in such a company
of ugly runaways, unshapely heaps
of ruffian vapour, broken from restraint
of their slim prison in the ocean deeps
but yet i may not chide: fall to thy books*
fall to immediately without complaint*
there they are lying, hills and vales and brooks
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