“At the Verge of June” by Clinton Scollard

by theliterarymaiden

At the Verge of June
Clinton Scollard
From the Churchman, Vol. 83, June 8, 1901

The lustrous days are long,
The nights divine, and now
Break buoyant bursts of song
From every bough.

And down the lonely lanes
Where sun and shadow sleep,
Unrutted by the wains,
And verdured deep.

Amid her tangled bowers
June’s loveliest nursling shows,
Blush-lady of the flowers—
The wilding rose!

And if thou shouldst once breathe
Its attar dewy-bland,
No charm will that bequeath
From Samarcand.

Nay, nor those scented rains
Of bright Egyptian bloom
That deck the fallen fanes
Of old Fayum!

So, at the verge of June,
When all God’s wide world glows,
I crave but this one boon—
The wilding rose!