Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/34
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THE TWENTY-SEVENTH OF MARCH.
Oh, gentle one, thy birthday sun should rise
Amid a chorus of the merriest birds
That ever sang the stars out of the sky
In a June morning. Rivulets should send
A voice of gladness from their winding paths,
Deep in o'erarching grass, where playful winds,
Stirring the loaded stems should shower the, dew
Upon the glamy water. Newly blown
Roses, by thousands, to the garden walks
Should tempt the lottering moth and diligent bee.
The longest, brightest day in all the year
Amid a chorus of the merriest birds
That ever sang the stars out of the sky
In a June morning. Rivulets should send
A voice of gladness from their winding paths,
Deep in o'erarching grass, where playful winds,
Stirring the loaded stems should shower the, dew
Upon the glamy water. Newly blown
Roses, by thousands, to the garden walks
Should tempt the lottering moth and diligent bee.
The longest, brightest day in all the year