The days of June

Every year at this time I recall this sweet poem, recited by my grandfather in an oration contest when he was a small child, around 1900 or so. He could recite it from memory almost until he died, aged 96.

Honeysuckle! Sweet am I!

Hark to me as you pass by.

With my tendrils reaching out,

porch and wall I climb about.

Making sweet the days of June,

which, alas, must end too soon.

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2 Responses to The days of June

  1. Donna Key says:

    I love this so much!! Just yesterday, I was walking around the wooded perimeter of the office, enjoying God’s amazing creation: a gray lizard, small wild blackberries, a jeweled assortment of dragon flies . . . and I came across three white honeysuckle flowers, and yes I had to pull their delicate tubes and taste them!! Thanks so much for sharing this poem and memory.

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