This poem is usually known as “What Is so Rare as a Day in June,” but actually there is no poem by that name. The name of the poem is The Vision of Sir Launfel, a very long sorta historical poem in the tradition of Sir Walter Scott, dealing with the search for the Holy Grail. However, while the poem itself may be slightly unreadable, it is absolutely stuffed with what I think of as beautiful little mini-poems…that is, sections that can exist on their own. This little section is probably one of the best known of them.

James Russell Lowell was from the well known Lowell family of Massachusetts; they were quite the elite, very important in the world of politics and law and wealth, and the saying went that the “Lowells speak only to the Cabots (another, even more important family), and the Cabots speak only to God.” However, the family produced two poets, James Russell himself and his first cousin, Amy Lowell (who has already appeared on the Poetry Stand).

James Russell Lowell taught at Harvard and wrote poetry. He was politically active, like most New Englanders, involved in the abolition and other movements, but he never let his politics overwhelm his poetry. He remained with his eyes open to the human condition and to the world that needed telling. So even though he goes on a bit too long, by modern standards, you’ll find beautiful little gems of lines buried in there!



What Is So Rare As A Day In June
 
No price is set on the lavish summer;
June may be had by the poorest comer.
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten…
Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it…