Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1893-06-16
VOL. XVII.
JUNE.
eY HELEN HOLMES cnAaLro

HELEN HOLMES CHARLTON.
Tread at Southwestern Wis. Veterans Reunion
Mineral Point, June 9Th. 1881
'Tis June. Why strive. I'm tanging words,
Or smoothly fitting phrase,
To speak Of June. that rare. sweet month,
And all her winsome ways2
Hers is the glory of the leaf,
The beauty of the flower;
Hers. too, the promise of the vine.
And autumn's coming dover.
Beneath the blue Of skies serene
The rill and river meet;
And stars above the stars below
In placid waters greet.
Aurora, rosy fingered maid.
Draws back the veil Of night
The tuneful son Of myriad birds
Gives welcome TO the light.
Why sing of June when June is here,
Herself the sweetest singer?
She gives us each thousand songs
For one that we may bring her.
We hear her voice. we feel her touch,
Forgotten care and pain.
Like winters snow our ills are fled,
And life is young again.
But June hath memories as well;
The springing grain. the ttower-decked sod.
Hide winding paths of bitterness,
Where sorrows feet have trod.
We clasp each other by the hand,
And loving glance meets loving eyes,
The present fades and from the past,
Lo, other scenes and shapes arise.
The birds sweet trill upon the bough
BECOMES the bugle call Of war;
The drowning sound of busy bees.
The tramp of marching feet afar.
For June hath known the battles shock,
When foemen brave brave foemen meet;
Hath felt the surging roar and rock
OF deadly onslaught and retreat.
And June hath heard the soldiers moan,
The whispered prayer of dying men;
Her kiss hath softly closed the eyes
Which ne'er should look on home again.
And June hath hovered round about
The close and sitting prison pen.
Where hung ring, thirsting for her look,
Lay dying scores of valiant men.
Oh! wind of June, so passing sweet,
Which softly blows upon my cheek,
What tales of woe thou couldst repeat,
What untold anguish thou mightst speak!
But kindly nature hastes to heal
Her marred and battie-trodden fields;
The precious spot where heroes fell.
With warm and tender touch she shields.
How then, with hearts all battled-scarred,
Hearts which the deepest grief have nown,
Hearts which gave all in loyal love.
Once more shall they reclaim their own?
AS the grain grows tall where the crimson tide
OF the fiercest battles rolled. ling heart,
So there springs from the crushed and bleed
New graces manifold; land care.
And the soul which was spent with sorrow
Its chords all tangled and out of tune,
Comes back to a state more fresh and fair
Meath the softer skies of later June.
And the land we love which was torn and rent
by passion and wars alarms,
Hath hidden the scars of the long-gone years
With fresher and sweeter charms.
'Twas morn in June when the knight of old
All clad in his gided mail.
Set forth from his castle. grim and cold,
To search for the Holy Grail.
So little he knew of the prize he sought
That he toiled for weary years,
And came again to his castle gate,
Unknown, i'm rags and tears.
[scorned,
And there from the bcggar he once had
When clad in his unscarred mail,
He learned that he left at his castle gate
The sought-for Holy Grail.
So hearts which have learned the lesson Of life
To the present are never blind
But find as they bend to anothers need,
The good for themselves designed.
And thus when veterans SCARED and brave,
In peace of the past commune.
Wherever they are. in heart and in land.
They find Il perpetual June.