No Celtic verse or ancient ruin
Portray the joy of summer June
Be it the meadowlarks glad tune
Or cooling streams mid afternoon.

Yet I invite you that you look
And lie contently in some nook
And see how great the care God took
When ‘ere he made the quiet brook.

When with a finger lovely fair
Creating for his early pair
He scented up the nice spring air
To prove to man his love and care.

We as our God would too create
If we could only captivate
The wisdom of that potentate
And have a power commiserate.

For would it not be joy indeed
To not be forced to use a seed
But as our heart or fancy plead
To make creative summer speed.