On the longest day of the year I have
The most far-reaching eye
To scan, to mark, to fascinate
Each bird that soars. I spy
On every dawn that sparks her light
To cleanse a foggy moon
On the longest day of the year
I am in June.
I see our Lake as its waters break
Across a goslings’ nest
I smell the scent of a breakfast spent
Before a morning’s rest –
For some of us watched hours long
Over a baby’s cry
We’ve had the longest night of the year
That’s why.
As the longest day of the year recedes
I stay to hear leaves fall
To scan, to mark, to fascinate
The shortest and the tall.
I am The Spire of Blenheim’s Land
Its pinnacle, its Beacon Grand
On the longest day of the year I stand
As servant to you all.