June

In praise of this month, as we have so many sweet roses at home, which by the way are a pain to deadhead, taken from the country diary of an Edwardian lady as one of her entries for June.

'For the Rose, ho, the Rose! is the eye of the flowers,
Is the blush of the meadows that feel themselves fair,
Is the lightning of beauty that strikes through the bowers,
On pale lovers who sit in the glow unaware.
Ho, the Rose breathes of love! Ho, the Rose lifts the cup
To the red lips of Cypris invoked for a guest!
Ho, the Rose, having curled its sweet leaves for the world,
Takes delight in the motion its petals keep up,
As they laugh to the wind as it laughs from the west!'

E.B.B. Trans. from Sappho

(E.B.B. stands for Elizabeth Barrett Browning)