St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-06-19
"What so perfect as a day in June,

For then, II ever, come bright days
The gentle Quaker poet who wrote
those lines had III mind, not these stl-
fling city rooms or the crowded city
streets along which tired, reluctant feet,
driven Dv the barb of necessity, tread
80 ceaselesAy; nor the bits of beauty
and greenneSs, those little breathing
spots in tie city's crowded ways, those
paradiseS of alien lovers or world-worn
ramps and nursery maids and
their pretty charges, the city
parks; but the wide greenneSs
and quiet Of the woods and fields.
June in This northern latitude comes
not as a delicious old-worldy maiden
with the bloom Of the rose of promise
In her cheek, the blue of the sky Of
hope in her bonnie eye, the perfume OF
the wild flowers of youth and purity
on her breath or the sunshine of the
season, promise and love OH her brow
and gliding in her waving tresses; but
as rude. barbaric hoyden who comes
with rush, overwhelming you with the
warmth of her smile, the ardor of her
kisses and the prodigality of her wom-
anly charms. June with us is
hot and fervd. But the JuneS
we knew in the long ago were
of another sort. When in the morning
you woke to feel the soft caress of the
blOssOm-laden air as it stole through
your open window, fresh from its flight
across the meadows ana the deep, cool
shadows under the orchard boughs, you
realized that it was June. Out IN the
yard the boys were making ready for
the reaping in the new field on the other
side Of the "road lot" You could see
as you glanced along above the swaying
orchard boughS, between the tall pop
lars at the barn gate, the glintand gIim-
mer OF the following fields as you stood
along the road that wound like a
gray ribbon between the zgzag fences,
hidden by wilderness of wild creepers,
little groups of men vending their way
to one or another of the settlement farms
intent on nelghborly Offices of help as
well as visiting. You knew when they
met other parties, and rested in the
shadows Of the fences, that neighbour
hood news was being exchanged and the
political situation discussed. MelloWed
by distance the wild yodeling laugh of
black sam" or "Tom," or the religious
fervor of Uncle Daniels" meetin'
hymn came sweetiy to your ear
In the orchard the orioles,
like bits or gold bound song,
darted from one to another Of their dun |
hammocks intent Oh family business. |
A-tllt on the tUpmast b0ugh of cherry !
tree catbird poured from his swelling !
throat such flood of mimic melody as |
made less favored songsters in the wood |
beyond silent from sheer envy, while |
deep IN the spicy shade of the honey
suckle vines the blueblrdS took up the |
trill and answered back his tuneful !
challenge. The wild rose riots on
tile garden fence, the soft low of the
cattle standing knee-deep in the bios
SOming clover or cooling their hoofs by
plashing through tie GOODNESS of the
shady rill that flows over a tangle of !
sweet flag roots TO meet and merge Ill |
the CHANGING river over beyond that deep !
''neck" of woods, that fed the mill, !
whose Gathering stones awaited the |
garner of the golden field where today's |
labor lies. Do you remember how you
sat Oh the fence when you came down |
with the boys lunch
"Ani watched the mowers as they go
As they go across the field white-sleeved |
row.
In tune their merry whetstones ring,
In time their cleaning scythes they swing,"
and, leaning back against the stake"
as you sat Oh the rider of that fence |
you saw
"Becalmed along the azure sky,
The argosies of cloud land lie,
Whose shores with many shining rift
Far off their pearl-whlte peaks uplift."
Can you recall the merry jests and |
boyish laughter that made even the |
heavy labor seem but play, shared, as it !
was, by friends and kinsmen? Was |
there any relation between that line |
moving i'll perfect time to the brawny |
leaders, swing, and another line of blue |
and grey, that surged and advanced /
and met and clashed and Wavered and |
sank to the roar of musketry and the |
boom of cannon that darkened the sky |
of June? Was it forecast from the |
coming shadow that darkened your
spirit and filled your eyes with tears as
worked that day in June?
AUNT POLLY.