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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=407867" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Calendar of Sonnets: June</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=407867" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O month whose promise and fulfilment blend, <br>And burst in one! it seems the earth can store <br>In all her roomy house no treasure more; <br>Of all her wealth no farthing have to spend <br>On fruit, when once this stintless flowering end. <br>And yet no tiniest flower shall fall before <br>It hath made ready at its hidden core <br>Its tithe of seed, which we may count and tend <br>Till harvest. Joy of blossomed love, for thee <br>Seems it no fairer thing can yet have birth? <br>No room is left for deeper ecstacy? <br>Watch well if seeds grow strong, to scatter free <br>Germs for thy future summers on the earth. <br>A joy which is but joy soon comes to dearth.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Helen+Hunt+Jackson">Helen Hunt Jackson</a></strong></div>

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