Explore Quotes on June

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, _x000D__x000D_For as you were when first your eye I eyed,_x000D__x000D_Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold _x000D__x000D_Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,_x000D__x000D_Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd _x000D__x000D_In process of the seasons have I seen, _x000D__x000D_Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,_x000D__x000D_Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.

I used to visit and revisit it a dozen times a day, and stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation. It was one of the most bewitching sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green.

Summer makes a silence after spring.

What do I miss about the UK? Sadly, almost nothing. Maybe the midnight sun, in June in the north. That's all.

The flowers are Nature's jewels, with whose wealth she decks her summer beauty.

O Day after day we can't help growing older._x000D__x000D_Year after year spring can't help seeming younger._x000D__x000D_Come let's enjoy our winecup today,_x000D__x000D_Nor pity the flowers fallen.

June 16, 1971, mama gave birth to a Hell rasing heavenly son.

The country ever has a lagging Spring,_x000D__x000D_Waiting for May to call its violets forth,_x000D__x000D_And June its roses-showers and sunshine bring,_x000D__x000D_Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth;_x000D__x000D_To put their foliage out, the woods are slack,_x000D__x000D_And one by one the singing-birds come back._x000D__x000D__x000D_Within the city's bounds the time of flowers_x000D__x000D_Comes earlier. Let a mild and sunny day,_x000D__x000D_Such as full often, for a few bright hours,_x000D__x000D_Breathes through the sky of March the airs of May,_x000D__x000D_Shine on our roofs and chase the wintry gloom-_x000D__x000D_And lo! our borders glow with sudden bloom.

In winter I get up at night_x000D__x000D_And dress by yellow candle-light._x000D__x000D_In summer quite the other way,_x000D__x000D_I have to go to bed by day._x000D__x000D__x000D_I have to go to bed and see_x000D__x000D_The birds still hopping on the tree,_x000D__x000D_Or hear the grown-up people's feet_x000D__x000D_Still going past me in the street._x000D__x000D__x000D_And does it not seem hard to you,_x000D__x000D_When all the sky is clear and blue,_x000D__x000D_And I should like so much to play,_x000D__x000D_To have to go to bed by day?

What joy have I in June's return?_x000D__x000D_My feet are parched-my eyeballs burn,_x000D__x000D_I scent no flowery gust;_x000D__x000D_But faint the flagging zephyr springs,_x000D__x000D_With dry Macadam on its wings,_x000D__x000D_And turns me 'dust to dust.'

Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine_x000D__x000D_The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights_x000D__x000D_And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine,_x000D__x000D_The foliage of the valleys and the heights._x000D__x000D_Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights;_x000D__x000D_The mower's scythe makes music to my ear;_x000D__x000D_I am the mother of all dear delights;_x000D__x000D_I am the fairest daughter of the year.

Now summer is in flower and natures hum _x000D__x000D_Is never silent round her sultry bloom _x000D__x000D_Insects as small as dust are never done _x000D__x000D_Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sun _x000D__x000D_And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee _x000D__x000D_Are never weary of their melody _x000D__x000D_Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine _x000D__x000D_Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine _x000D__x000D_That lift athirst their slender throated flowers _x000D__x000D_Agape for dew falls and for honey showers _x000D__x000D_These round each bush in sweet disorder run _x000D__x000D_And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun.

After her came jolly June, arrayed_x000D__x000D_All in green leaves, as he a player were;_x000D__x000D_Yet in his time he wrought as well as played,_x000D__x000D_That by his plough-irons mote right well appear._x000D__x000D_Upon a crab he rode, that did him bear,_x000D__x000D_With crooked crawling steps, an uncouth pace,_x000D__x000D_And backward rode, as bargemen wont to fare,_x000D__x000D_Bending their force contrary to their face;_x000D__x000D_Like that ungracious crew which feigns demurest grace.

It is the month of June,_x000D_The month of leaves and roses,_x000D_When pleasant sights salute the eyes,_x000D_And pleasant scents the noses.

It is dry, hazy June weather. We are more of the earth, farther from heaven these days.

There is not any haunt of prophecy,_x000D__x000D_Nor any old chimera of the grave,_x000D__x000D_Neither the golden underground, nor isle_x000D__x000D_Melodious, where spirits gat them home,_x000D__x000D_Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm_x000D__x000D_Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured_x000D__x000D_As April's green endures; or will endure_x000D__x000D_Like her remembrance of awakened birds,_x000D__x000D_Or her desire for June and evening, tipped_x000D__x000D_By the consummation of the swallow's wings.

I gazed upon the glorious sky_x000D__x000D_And the green mountains round,_x000D__x000D_And thought that when I came to lie_x000D__x000D_At rest within the ground,_x000D__x000D_'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June_x000D__x000D_When brooks send up a cheerful tune,_x000D__x000D_And groves a joyous sound,_x000D__x000D_The sexton's hand, my grave to make,_x000D__x000D_The rich, green mountain-turf should break.

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers:_x000D__x000D_Of April, May, or June, and July flowers._x000D__x000D_I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes,_x000D__x000D_Of bridegrooms, brides, and of the bridal cakes.

People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June.

In June as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them.