Midmost June / Wilfred Rowland Childe

Midmost June

{For E.H.W.M.)

All through the hot, gray, sleepy afternoon
The thin gnats flew and sang,
The gardens of dim spices were aswoon,
And the earth was faint, and the sun like a pale moon,
And the sweet air rang.

Poppy and peony, larkspur, lily, rose
Nodded and fell asleep.
That the dull bees upon their lips might doze,
No petals to the warm air dared unclose,
And the trees did weep.

From off the misty plots of tasselled flowers.
And the lawns and endless leas,
And all the drooping, sleep-entangled bowers,
A steam went up through the long, blue, lagging hours,
And there was no breeze.

~~
Wilfred Rowland Chile (1890-1952)
from The Little City, 1911

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Wilfred Rowland Childe biography