Buds sighing in their sleep,
"Summer, pray grant us
Youth, that its bloom may keep
Fragrance to haunt us!"
"Summer, pray grant us
Youth, that its bloom may keep
Fragrance to haunt us!"
Rivers that shine and sing,
Sunbeams abetting,—
No more remembering
Their frozen fretting.
Sunbeams abetting,—
No more remembering
Their frozen fretting.
Music along the wind,
Sun in the showers;
What more shall any find
In summer hours!
Sun in the showers;
What more shall any find
In summer hours!
IVFLOWER IN HAND
The daisy is fine and fair
With her golden crown on,
And her tangle of lint white hair
And her green spring gown on.
And morning and Maytime are stored
In deep horns of honey—
If the bee steal the clover's hoard
The days are still sunny.
The buttercup holds out her disk,
Atop of the grasses,
To catch, at her waxen risk
The sunbeam that passes.
But the dandelion's so bright,
One almost might fancy
He was fashioned out of the light
By some necromancy.
With her golden crown on,
And her tangle of lint white hair
And her green spring gown on.
And morning and Maytime are stored
In deep horns of honey—
If the bee steal the clover's hoard
The days are still sunny.
The buttercup holds out her disk,
Atop of the grasses,
To catch, at her waxen risk
The sunbeam that passes.
But the dandelion's so bright,
One almost might fancy
He was fashioned out of the light
By some necromancy.
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