by Miss Pardoe.
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William & Mary Howitt) vol.2 #29 (17 Jul 1847).
June is come! In courtly halls
Beauty's footstep lightly falls;
And within each proud saloon
Torches shed the blaze of noon;
While upon the languid ear
Of high-born dame and cavalier,
Music's sweet voluptuous strain
Sinks as soft as summer rain.
Nature's children—where are they?
Sporting in the new-mown hay;
There the dance, too, light and long,
Is relieved by jest and song;
There the sun's benignant ray
Smiles upon their holiday;
And leafy boughs, and bees, and birds,
Send music to their gladsome words.
June is come! The dawn is nigh,
The first warm tint has streaked the sky;
With wearied limbs and aching head
Fashion's idols seek their bed,
Still whirls their brain with noise and glare,
They sicken neath the morning air,
Worn with the past, yet eager still
Their empty mission to fulfil.
Nature's children—where are they?
Sleeping on the new-mown hay.
Laughingly the stars o'erhead
Look down upon their fragrant bed;
While the breezes, warm and low,
Fondly fan each weary brow,
And the dull-vested nightingale
Is their melodious sentinel.
Fashion's votaries! run your race,
Brief and bright, in lordly place;
Dearly do ye pay for all,
Banquet rich and courtly ball;
Youth flies fast, and health declines,
Even where folly's banner shines;
Wasted day and slothful morrow
Yield an age of pain and sorrow.
Nature's children! laugh and toil;
Bend ye o'er the teeming soil;
Fear not labour, it is wealth,
Nor heaven's breeze, for it is health;
Homely meal, and quiet mind,
Make ye rich among your kind;
Honest heart, and willing hand,
Are the best treasures of the land.