SUMMER AND WINTER.
I
Oh, summer hours to us are dear,
When all the bow'rs are strew'd with flow'rs,
'Tis the roving season of the year.
Yes, over hill and vale we rove,
By sunny rill, thro' shady grove,
When all is still save the water mill;
Oh! that summer time we dearly love,
Oh! summer hours to us are dear, &c.
II
And winter hours to us are dear,
With leafless bowers and ceaseless show'rs,
'Tis the fireside season of the year:
And songs are sung and tales are told,
To charm the young, to cheer the old;
And the harp is strung and the log is flung,
And 'tis thus warm hearts keep out the cold.
Oh! winter hours to us are dear, &c.
