That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh: Your sorrow's half in fun, Begun and done And turned to joy while twenty seconds run. I've gathered flowers all as I came along, At every step a flower Fed by your last bright shower,-- [She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with April, who strolls away through the garden.] _May._ And gathering flowers I listened to the song Of every bird in bower. The world and I are far too full of bliss To think or plan or toil or care; The sun is waxing strong, The days are waxing long, And all that is, Is fair. Here are my buds of lily and of rose, And here's my namesake-blossom, may; And from a watery spot See here forget-me-not, With all that blows To-day. Hark to my linnets from the hedges green, Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove, And every nightingale And cuckoo tells its tale, And all they mean Is love. [June appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly towards May, who, seeing her, exclaims] _May._ Surely you're come too early, sister June. _June._ Indeed I feel as if I came too soon To round your young May moon And set the world a-gasping at my noon. Yet come I must. So here are strawberries Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please; And here are full-blown roses by the score, More roses, and yet more. [May, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds.] _June._ The sun does all my long day's work for me, Raises and ripens everything; I need but sit beneath a leafy tree And watch and sing. [Seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum. Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee, Or lulled by noontide's silence deep, I need but nestle down beneath my tree And drop asleep. [June falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of July, who behind the scenes is heard half singing, half calling.] _July._ [Behind the scenes.] Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled, Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled! Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow, Each in its way has not a fellow. [Enter July, a basket of many-colored irises slung upon his shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to June, and tickles her with the grass. She wakes.] _June._ What, here already? _July._ Nay, my tryst is kept; The longest day slipped by you while you slept. I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom, [Hands her the plate.