 | Hagar |  |
THE SONG OF SUMMER.
Gather the flowersNow while ye may,
Soon from this fair land
I must away.
Bask in the sunlight
Dream in the shade;
Green leaves will wither,
Flowers will fade.
Hie to the woodland
Blithely and free,
Wild birds are singing
Praises to me.
Seek the cool mosses
Treasures are there,
Brighter than corals;
Lovely and rare.
Linger by glen and brake
Where the ferns grow,
Where the wild beeches
252
Bend o'er the woodland stream
List to its song:
Rippling thro' light and shade
Gaily along.
Thus sing the bright waves;
Swiftly they go,
Murmuring o'er and o'er
Softly and low;
“Gather the flowers,
Now while ye may,
Fleetly the Summer
Is passing away.”
| Hagar | |