Fairest of Months! Ripe Summer’s Queen!
by Richard Combe Miller
Fairest of months! Ripe Summer's Queen!
The hey-day of the year,
With robes that gleam with sunny sheen
Sweet August doth appear.
With rosy fruit her skirts are drest,
Flowers her glory swell,
And birthday wishes are most blest,
Breathed 'neath her potent spell.