June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers; In vain are dew-drops sprinkled oer her; In vain would fond winds fan her back to life. Her hours are numbered on the floral dial. Lucy Larcom.The Death of June, Line 1.
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays. Lowell.The Vision of Sir Launfal.