June in England

The golden, drooped laburnum, and the May,
The pink May and the white, the chestnut trees
Flush-blossomed, snowy-blossomed! What of these?
We are but human. Let the throstle say.

Low skies wherefrom the tender colors fail,
A dim wood mystical with fragrances
Upbreathed by the bluebell! What of these?
Nay, we're but human. Hear the nightingale.
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