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When the scarlet cardinal tells Her dream to the dragon fly, And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees And murmurs a lullaby, It is July. When the tangled cobweb pulls The cornflower's cap awry, And the lilies tall lean over the wall To bow to the butterfly, It is July. When the heat like a mist-veil floats, And poppies flame in the rye, And the silver note in the streamlet's throat Has softened almost to a sigh, It is July. When the hours are so still that time Forgets them, and lets them lie 'Neath petals pink till the night stars wink At the sunset in the sky, It is July. |