Conversations introducing poetry chiefly on subjects of natural history. For the use of children and young persons. By Charlotte Smith |
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THE CLOSE OF SUMMER. |
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 | Conversations introducing poetry |  |
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THE CLOSE OF SUMMER.
Farewell ye banks, where late the primrose growing,
Among fresh leaves its pallid stars display'd,
And the ground-ivy's balmy flowers blowing,
Trail'd their festoons along the grassy shade.
Among fresh leaves its pallid stars display'd,
And the ground-ivy's balmy flowers blowing,
Trail'd their festoons along the grassy shade.
Farewell! to richer scenes and Summer pleasures,
Hedge-rows, engarlanded with many a wreath,
Where the wild roses hang their blushing treasures,
And to the evening gale the woodbines breathe.
Hedge-rows, engarlanded with many a wreath,
Where the wild roses hang their blushing treasures,
And to the evening gale the woodbines breathe.
Farewell! the meadows, where such various showers
Of beauty lurked, among the fragrant hay;
Where orchis bloomed with freak'd and spotted flowers,
And lychnis blushing like the new born day.
Of beauty lurked, among the fragrant hay;
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And lychnis blushing like the new born day.
The burning dog-star, and the insatiate mower,
Have swept or wither'd all this floral pride;
And mullein's now, or bugloss' lingering flower,
Scarce cheer the green lane's parched and dusty side.
Have swept or wither'd all this floral pride;
And mullein's now, or bugloss' lingering flower,
Scarce cheer the green lane's parched and dusty side.
His busy sickle now the months-man wielding,
Close are the light and fragile poppies shorn,
And while the golden ears their stores are yielding,
The azure corn-flowers fall among the corn.
Close are the light and fragile poppies shorn,
And while the golden ears their stores are yielding,
The azure corn-flowers fall among the corn.
The woods are silent too, where loudly flinging
Wild notes of rapture to the western gale,
A thousand birds their hymns of joy were singing,
And bade the enchanting hours of Spring time hail!
Wild notes of rapture to the western gale,
A thousand birds their hymns of joy were singing,
And bade the enchanting hours of Spring time hail!
The stock-dove now is heard, in plaintive measure,
The cricket shrill, and wether's drowsy bell,
But to the sounds and scents of vernal pleasure,
Music and dewy airs, a long farewell!
The cricket shrill, and wether's drowsy bell,
But to the sounds and scents of vernal pleasure,
Music and dewy airs, a long farewell!
Yet tho' no beauteous wreaths adorn the season,
Nor birds sing blythe, nor sweets the winds diffuse,
This riper period, like the age of reason,
Tho' stript of loveliness, is rich in use.
Nor birds sing blythe, nor sweets the winds diffuse,
This riper period, like the age of reason,
Tho' stript of loveliness, is rich in use.
| Conversations introducing poetry | |