Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/69

 JUNE

out the floor now, lay the fender by,

And plant this bee-sucked bough of woodbine there,

And let the window down. The butterfly

Floats in upon the sunbeam, and the fair

Tanned face of June, the nomad gipsy, laughs

Above her widespread wares, the while she tells

The farmers' fortunes in the fields, and quaffs

The water from the spider-peopled wells.

The hedges are all drowned in green grass seas,

And bobbing poppies flare like Elmor's light, 63