 | Poems, original and translated |  |
THE VOICE OF SUMMER.
This is the year's refulgent noon;
Now, through the long midsummer hours,
The locust sings his drowsy tune,
And roams the bee his realm of flowers.
Now, through the long midsummer hours,
The locust sings his drowsy tune,
And roams the bee his realm of flowers.
Contentment, peace, and rapture brood—
The smile of heaven—o'er hill and vale;
By sunny field and shady wood,
White clouds, like wings of angels, sail.
The smile of heaven—o'er hill and vale;
By sunny field and shady wood,
White clouds, like wings of angels, sail.
The hills and fields, the skies and seas;
The breath of heaven upon the brow;
Mysterious messenger, the breeze,
That comes and goes, we know not how;
The breath of heaven upon the brow;
Mysterious messenger, the breeze,
That comes and goes, we know not how;
The flowers that greet us on our way,
The carol of the summer bird;
The laugh of children at their play,—
One gentle voice in all is heard.
The carol of the summer bird;
The laugh of children at their play,—
One gentle voice in all is heard.
| Poems, original and translated | |