CH special sweetness was about That day God sent you here,
I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year.
Their common way the great winds blew, The ships sailed out to sea;
Yet ere that day was spent I knew Mine own had come to me.
As after song some snatch of tune Lurks still in grass or bough, So, somewhat of the end o’ June Lurks in each weather now.
The young year sets the buds astir, The old year strips the trees;
But ever in my lavender I hear the brawling bees.
