 | Poems |  |
117
SUMMER.
The Summer-time has come again,
With all its light and mirth,
And June leads on the laughing Hours,
To bless the weary Earth.
With all its light and mirth,
And June leads on the laughing Hours,
To bless the weary Earth.
The sunshine lies along the street,
So dim and cold before,
And in the open window creeps,
And slumbers on the floor.
So dim and cold before,
And in the open window creeps,
And slumbers on the floor.
The country was so fresh and fine
And beautiful in May,
It must be more than beautiful,—
A Paradise to-day!
And beautiful in May,
It must be more than beautiful,—
A Paradise to-day!
118
If I were only there again,
I'd seek the lanes apart,
And shout aloud in mighty woods,
To ease my happy heart!
I'd seek the lanes apart,
And shout aloud in mighty woods,
To ease my happy heart!
But prisoned here with flat brick walls,
I sit alone and sigh;
My only glimpse of Summer near,
A strip of cloudy sky.
I sit alone and sigh;
My only glimpse of Summer near,
A strip of cloudy sky.
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