O Summer-time, so passing sweet,
But heavy with the breath of flowers,
But languid with the fervent heat,
They chide amiss who call thee fleet, —
Thee, with thy weight of daylight hours,
O Summer-time, so passing sweet!
Young Summer, thou art too replete,
Too rich in choice of joys and powers,
But languid with the fervent heat.
Adieu! my face is set to meet
Bleak Winter, with his pallid showers, —
O Summer-time so passing sweet!
Old Winter steps with swifter feet,
He lingers not in wayside bowers,
He is not languid with the heat;
His rounded day, a pearl complete,
Gleams on the unknown night that lowers;
O Summer-time, so passing sweet,
But languid with the fervent heat!
