Again the Summer's golden prime
The wealth of June discloses;
Heaven wears its fairest robe of blue,
And Earth its crown of roses.

The wild bird sings its sweetest tune,
The softest airs are blowing;
The very heart of Nature seems
With gladness overflowing.

Dear Lord, shall human lips be mute,
No voice with Nature blending?
No breath of prayer or hymn of praise
From thankful hearts ascending?

Oh, then in vain the Summer's prime
The wealth of June discloses;
And Heaven its robe of glory wears,
And Earth its crown of roses!