When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, <br />With scarlet roses tinting her green breast, <br />And mating thrushes ushering in her day, <br />And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest, <br /> <br />I always see the evening when we met-- <br />The first of June baptized in tender rain-- <br />And walked home through the wide streets, gleaming wet, <br />Arms locked, our warm flesh pulsing with love's pain. <br /> <br />I always see the cheerful little room, <br />And in the corner, fresh and white, the bed, <br />Sweet scented with a delicate perfume, <br />Wherein for one night only we were wed; <br /> <br />Where in the starlit stillness we lay mute, <br />And heard the whispering showers all night long, <br />And your brown burning body was a lute <br />Whereon my passion played his fevered song. <br /> <br />When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, <br />With scarlet roses staining her fair feet, <br />My soul takes leave of me to sing all day <br />A love so fugitive and so complete.<br /><br />Claude McKay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-memory-of-june/
