June

O queenly month of indolent repose!
I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume,
As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom
I nestle like a drowsy child and doze
The lazy hours away. The zephyr throws
The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom
And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom
Before thy listless feet. The lily blows
A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade;
And wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear,
Thy harvest-armies gather on parade;
While faint and far away, yet pure and clear,
A voice calls out of alien lands of shade:
All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year!

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

James Whitcomb Riley

The Train Misser

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Prior To Miss Belle's Appearance

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

A Delicious Interruption

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Sleep.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

When June Is Here.

When June is here - what art have we to sing
    The whiteness of the lilies midst the green
    Of noon-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen
Like redbirds' wings? Or earliest ripening
Prince-Harvest apples, where the cloyed bees cling
    Round winey juices oozing down between
    The peckings 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; and, where the milkmaid talks
Across the bars, on tilted barley-stalks
    The dewdrops' glint in webs of gossamer.

James Whitcomb Riley

Knee Deep in June

1
Tell you what I like the best -
'Long about knee-deep in June,
'Bout the time strawberries melts
On the vine, some afternoon
Like to jes' git out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!

2
Orchard's where I'd ruther be -
Needn't fence it in fer me!
Jes' the whole sky overhead,
And the whole airth underneath -
Sorto' so's a man kin breathe
Like he ort, and kindo' has
Elbow-room to keerlessly
Sprawl out len'thways on the grass
Where the shadders thick and soft
As the kivvers on the bed
Mother fixes in the loft
Allus, when they's company!

3
Jes' a-sorto' lazin' there -
S'lazy, 'at you peeks and peer
Through the wavin' leaves above,
Like a feller 'ats in love
And don't know it, ner don't keer!
Ever'thi...

James Whitcomb Riley

August.

    A day of torpor in the sullen heat
        Of Summer's passion: In the sluggish stream
    The panting cattle lave their lazy feet,
        With drowsy eyes, and dream.

    Long since the winds have died, and in the sky
        There lives no cloud to hint of Nature's grief;
    The sun glares ever like an evil eye,
        And withers flower and leaf.

    Upon the gleaming harvest-field remote
        The thresher lies deserted, like some old
    Dismantled galleon that hangs afloat
        Upon a sea of gold.

    The yearning cry of some bewildered bird
        Above an empty nest, and truant boys
    Along the river's shady margin heard -
        A harmony of noise -

    A melody of wrangling voices blent
        With liquid...

James Whitcomb Riley

May

Now comes the bonny May, dancing and skipping
Across the stepping-stones of meadow streams,
Bearing no kin to April showers a-weeping,
But constant Sunshine as her servant seems.
Her heart is up--her sweetness, all a-maying,
Streams in her face, like gems on Beauty's breast;
The swains are sighing all, and well-a-daying,
Lovesick and gazing on their lovely guest.
The Sunday paths, to pleasant places leading,
Are graced by couples linking arm in arm,
Sweet smiles enjoying or some book a-reading,
Where Love and Beauty are the constant charm;
For while the bonny May is dancing by,
Beauty delights the ear, and Beauty fills the eye.

Birds sing and build, and Nature scorns alone
On May's young festival to be a widow;
The children, too, have pleasures all their...

John Clare

June

Long, long ago, it seems, this summer morn
That pale-browed April passed with pensive tread
Through the frore woods, and from its frost-bound bed
Woke the arbutus with her silver horn;
And now May, too, is fled,
The flower-crowned month, the merry laughing May,
With rosy feet and fingers dewy wet,
Leaving the woods and all cool gardens gay
With tulips and the scented violet.

Gone are the wind-flower and the adder-tongue
And the sad drooping bellwort, and no more
The snowy trilliums crowd the forest's floor;
The purpling grasses are no longer young,
And summer's wide-set door
O'er the thronged hills and the broad panting earth
Lets in the torrent of the later bloom,
Haytime, and harvest, and the after mirth,
The slow soft rain, the rushing thunder pl...

Archibald Lampman

Blooms Of May

But yesterday!...
O blooms of May,
And summer roses - Where-away?
O stars above,
And lips of love
And all the honeyed sweets thereof!

O lad and lass
And orchard-pass,
And briered lane, and daisied grass!
O gleam and gloom,
And woodland bloom,
And breezy breaths of all perfume! -

No more for me
Or mine shall be
Thy raptures - save in memory, -
No more - no more -
Till through the Door
Of Glory gleam the days of yore.

James Whitcomb Riley