The year is fair, the year is sweet,
And Nature's ministry complete.
The graceful tree-tops idly swing,
The summer birds are on the wing;
And ladened with a rare perfume
Is every wandering breeze of June.
The far-off stable hills abide,
And guard the valleys cool and wide.
Across the green the rivers run,
Like silver ribbons in the sun;
With low wish-wash they onward flee,
Swift-footed seekers for the sea.
Fair skies of June with radiant glow,
Bend over all their blue and snow
With clouds that sweep the upper air
Like angels, winged to answer prayer.
And yet the tender summer skies
Keep close their secret from our eyes,
And never open any door
Into the land we would explore.
Ah! fields of summer, sweet with balm!
Ah! skies of summer, far and calm!
Across your beauty yet doth break
The cry of hearts that long and ache.
O! give the world some perfect strain,
To heal its discord and its pain;
For though the year is fair and sweet
Your ministry is not complete.