midday
It was heavenly to write poetry . Something soft and warm seemed to ooze through your being as you sat out there and watched the sorrow of a drab , drab sky ; or else , on a bright day , a big shining cloud aloft like some silver-gold fairy palace and , down below , the smell of warm , new-cut grass , and whispers of little live things everywhere ! It was then that you felt you 'd have died if you could n't have written poetry ! It was on such a lilting day of June , and Melissa 's whole being in tune with it , that she was called in to the midday dinner-and received the invitation . Father had brought it from the post office and handed it to her with exaggerated solemnity . `` For Miss Melissa Merriam , '' he announced . Yes !