TWO JUNE NIGHTS.

A red rose in my lady's hair,

A white rose in her fingers,

A wild bird singing low, somewhere,

A song that pulses, lingers.

The sound of dancing and of mirth,

The fiddle's merry chiming,

A smell of earth, of fresh, warm earth,

And honeysuckle climbing;

My lady near, yet far away —

Ah, lonely June of yesterday!

A big white night of velvet sky,

And Milky Way a-gleaming,

The fragrant blue smoke drifting by

From camp-fire brightly beaming;

The stillness of the Northland far —

God's solitudes of splendor —

My road a trail, my chart a star.

Wind,‘ mong the balsams slender,

Sing low: O glad June of to-day,

My lady's near, though far away!