The Breckenridge news. (Cloverport, Ky.) 1876-1955, 1893-06-21
The Month of Roses and Strawber-
ries-The Month of Sunshine,
zephyrs and Bird Songs.
The Month Which Has Inspired Poets
From Chauoer's Time.-Some of
the Songs They Have Sung
to Fair June
From Shakespeare to James whitoomb
Riley They Have Adored Her.

/
Greek goddess might fittingly describe
the arrival of the rare and radiant month
OF June, which in all the magnifcence OF
summers state, comes crowned queen OF
the vernal year. Coquettish May retires
before conquering presence of her regal
sister, who has royalty robed herself in a
robe Of richest emerald green, buttoned
it with dandelions, daisies and butter
cups, and gemmed it with thousand
other rainbow-tinted flowers. To COM
plete her bewitching costume she has
added to her green coronel OF leaves a
wreath of the immortal amaranth.
1t is the radiant month of the year, and
the gorgeous bloom Of luxuriant June is
reflected on high in daffodil sky. There
is balmy fragrance in the air and dewy
freshness on the foliage that lends bril-
liancy and enchantment to the landscape
and we realize at this favored season that
we are neither
Hot summers tantlngs nor the shrinking slaves
of winter.
This month brings us close to the warm
heart OF grand old Mother Nature, and
we feel the inspiration of her loving,
breathing presence.
II is the month that poets worship.
says Lowell in his "Vision of Sir Sami-
fall"
What is rare as a day in Junes
Then, II ever, comes perfect days.
And Coleridge in his weird poem "The
Ancient Mariner in few lines reveals
enchanting and suggestive picture:
A noise like Of hidden brook
In the leafy month of June
That TO the sleeping woods all night
Singeth quiet tune.
But our own Hoosier poet, Whitcomb
Riley, has given us one of the best short
descriptive poems on this radiant month
of the year that was probably ever writ
ten-full of inspiration and true poetic
fire:
Oh, queenly month of indolent repose!
drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume
As In thy downy lap Of clover bloom
nestle like drowsy child and doze
The law hours away. The zephyr throws
The shifting shuttle of the summers loom
And weaves a damask work of CLEAN and gloom
Before thy listless feet. The lily blows
bugle call of fragrance DER the glade,
And wheeling into ranks with plume aud spear
Tbs harvest armies gather on parade;
While faint and far away, yet pure and clear,
"All hail, the peerless goddess of the year"
In somewhat similar dolce far niende
vein is his quaint dialect poem "Knee
Deep in June" which begins thus:
Tell you what like best
Long about Knee deep In june,
Bout the time Strawberries melts
On the vine-some afternoon
Like to jest go out and rest,
And not work at nothin' else!
A modern Anglo-Saxon has pictorially
hung garlands OF flowers and clusters OF
fruit on the rim OF the zodiac, and on the
space OF June, which is in the constella-
ton of cancer or the crab, a wreath OF
Towering grape-twigs is hung encompass
ing bunch of strawberries Strawber-
ries are par excellence the berry OF June,
and well deserve DIR. Boetler's encomium.
Doubtless God could have made better
berry, but doubtless God never did"
''The fiowery month of Junew 1t is
as natural for poets to love flowers as il
is for the chameleon to drink the air,
and, like the chameleon, the poetic soul
is filed with their reflective beauty and
fragrance.
Spake iull well in language quaint and olden
One who dwelleth bv the Castle Rhine,
When he called the flowers SO blue and golden
Stars that Ia earth's armament do shine.
And the poet, faithful and far-seeing,
Sees alike in stars and flowers part
OF the self-saine universal being
Which is throbbing in his brain and heart.
1t was in the howery month OF June
that the immortal author of "Thanatop-
Sis coined that innumerable caravan"
of the silent majority. In his beautiful
poem of June he thus prophet ;ally de-
scribes the time OF his own death. II is
as il in STRAIN OF inspired prescience he
had penned it;
gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round
And thought that when came to lie
At rest within the ground,
'Iwere pleasant that In fowery June
When rocks send up cheerful tune
And groves a cheerful sound,
The sexton's hand my grave to make
The rich green mountain turf should break,
There thro' the long long summer hours
The golden light should lie,
And sweet Young herbs aud groups OF flowers
Stand In their beauty by,
The oriole should build aud tell
Hislove tale close beside my cell;
The idle butterfly should rest him there, and
The housewife bee and humming bird.
Flowers, flowers, flowers Everywhere
these silent messengers OF the beautiful
are constantly preaching TO us. And as
poetry is the blossom and fragrance OF all
human knowledge SO are flowers the
breath Of beauty blowing round the visi-
BILE world, but flowers without Fragrance
seem like beautiful women without soul.
"The myriad minded" who draws
moral from all things, thus points moral
from flowers
The summer flower Is to the summer sweet,
Tho to itself Il only live and die;
Hut u that flower with base infection meet
The basest week ontbravcs its dignity
For sweetest things turn sonrest BY their deed
Lilies that tester smell far worse than weeds.