Explore Quotes on June

The world is wide; no two days are alike, nor even two hours; neither were there ever two leaves of a tree alike since the creation of the world; and the genuine productions of art, like those of nature, are all distinct from one another.

It's not the winter that bothers me - it's the summers.

Do you recall that night in June_x000D_Do you recall that night in June_x000D_Upon the Danube River;_x000D_We listened to the ländler-tune,_x000D_We watched the moonbeams quiver.

I loved you when love was Spring, and May, Loved you when summer deepened into June, and now when autumn yellows all the leaves.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,_x000D__x000D_Fills the children's hands with posies.

A happy soul, that all the way _x000D__x000D_To heaven hath a summer's day.

O months of blossoming, months of transfigurations, _x000D__x000D_May without cloud and June stabbed to the heart, _x000D__x000D_I shall not ever forget the lilacs or the roses _x000D__x000D_Nor those the spring has kept folded away apart.

And let them pass, as they will too soon, _x000D__x000D_With the bean-flowers' boon, _x000D__x000D_And the blackbird's tune, _x000D__x000D_And May, and June!

'Warm in December, cold in June, you say?' _x000D__x000D_I don't suppose the water's changed at all. _x000D__x000D_You and I know enough to know it's warm _x000D__x000D_Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm. _x000D__x000D_But all the fun's in how you say a thing.

Long drawn, the cool, green shadows_x000D__x000D_Steal o'er the lake's warm breast,_x000D__x000D_And the ancient silence follows_x000D__x000D_The burning sun to rest. The calm of a thousand summers,_x000D__x000D_And dreams of countless Junes,_x000D__x000D_Return when the lake-wind murmurs_x000D__x000D_Through golden August noons.

Strawberries that in gardens grow _x000D__x000D_Are plump and juicy fine, _x000D__x000D_But sweeter far as wise men know _x000D__x000D_Spring from the woodland vine. _x000D__x000D_No need for bowl or silver spoon, _x000D__x000D_Sugar or spice or cream, _x000D__x000D_Has the wild berry plucked in June _x000D__x000D_Beside the trickling stream. _x000D__x000D_One such to melt at the tongue's root, _x000D__x000D_Confounding taste with scent, _x000D__x000D_Beats a full peck of garden fruit: _x000D__x000D_Which points my argument.

I pray that the life of this spring and summer may ever lie fair in my memory.

June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;_x000D__x000D_In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,_x000D__x000D_In vain would fond winds fan her back to life,_x000D__x000D_Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.

It always seemed to me that the herbaceous peony is the very epitome of June. Larger than any rose, _x000D__x000D_it has something of the cabbage rose's voluminous quality; and when it finally drops from the vase, it _x000D__x000D_sheds its petticoats with a bump on the table, all in an intact heap, much as a rose will suddenly fall, _x000D__x000D_making us look up from our book or conversation, to notice for one moment the death of what had _x000D__x000D_still appeared to be a living beauty.

In a bowl to sea went wise men three, _x000D__x000D_On a brilliant night of June: _x000D__x000D_They carried a net, and their hearts were set _x000D__x000D_On fishing up the moon.

June is bustin' out all over.

Tell you what I like the best -_x000D__x000D_'Long about knee-deep in June,_x000D__x000D_'Bout the time strawberries melts_x000D__x000D_On the vine, - some afternoon_x000D__x000D_Like to jes' git out and rest,_x000D__x000D_And not work at nothin' else!

How do you like to go up in a swing,_x000D__x000D_Up in the air so blue?_x000D__x000D_Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing_x000D__x000D_Ever a child can do!_x000D__x000D_Up in the air and over the wall,_x000D__x000D_Till I can see so wide,_x000D__x000D_River and trees and cattle and all_x000D__x000D_Over the countryside. _x000D__x000D_Till I look down on the garden green,_x000D__x000D_Down on the roof so brown-_x000D__x000D_Up in the air I go flying again,_x000D__x000D_Up in the air and down!

It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk_x000D__x000D_The dew that lay upon the morning grass;_x000D__x000D_There is no rustling in the lofty elm_x000D__x000D_That canopies my dwelling, and its shade_x000D__x000D_Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint_x000D__x000D_And interrupted murmur of the bee,_x000D__x000D_Settling on the sick flowers, _x000D__x000D_And then again Instantly on the wing.

Heed not the night; _x000D__x000D_A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, _x000D__x000D_'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree,_x000D__x000D_'Tis mantled by the vine.

To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June