 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
23
SUMMER.
The heat of the summer comes hastily on,
The fruits are transparent and clear:
The buds and the blossoms of April are gone
And the deep-colour'd cherries appear.
The fruits are transparent and clear:
The buds and the blossoms of April are gone
And the deep-colour'd cherries appear.
The blue sky above us is bright and serene,
No cloud on its bosom remains;
The woods, and the fields, and the hedges are green,
And the hay-cocks smell sweet from the plains.
No cloud on its bosom remains;
The woods, and the fields, and the hedges are green,
And the hay-cocks smell sweet from the plains.
Down far in the valley, where bubbles the spring,
Which soft through the meadow-land glides,
The lads from the mountain the heavy sheep bring,
And shear the warm coat from their sides.
Which soft through the meadow-land glides,
The lads from the mountain the heavy sheep bring,
And shear the warm coat from their sides.
24
Ah! let me lie down in some shady retreat,
Beside the meandering stream;
For the sun darts abroad an unbearable heat,
And burns with his overhead beam.
Beside the meandering stream;
For the sun darts abroad an unbearable heat,
And burns with his overhead beam.
There, all the day idle, my limbs I'll extend,
Fanned soft to delicious repose;
While round me a thousand sweet odours ascend,
From every gay wood-flower that blows.
Fanned soft to delicious repose;
While round me a thousand sweet odours ascend,
From every gay wood-flower that blows.
But hark! from the lowlands what sounds do I hear?
The voices of pleasure so gay!
The merry young haymakers cheerfully bear
The heat of the hot summer's day.
The voices of pleasure so gay!
The merry young haymakers cheerfully bear
The heat of the hot summer's day.
While some with bright scythe singing shrill to the stone,
The tall grass and buttercups mow,
Some spread it with forks, and by others 'tis thrown
Into sweet-smelling cocks in a row.
The tall grass and buttercups mow,
Some spread it with forks, and by others 'tis thrown
Into sweet-smelling cocks in a row.
25
Then since joy and glee with activity join,
This moment to labour I'll rise;
While the idle love best in the shade to recline,
And waste precious time as it flies.
This moment to labour I'll rise;
While the idle love best in the shade to recline,
And waste precious time as it flies.
To waste precious time we can never recall,
Is waste of the wickedest kind:
One short day of life has more value than all
The gold that in India they find.
Is waste of the wickedest kind:
One short day of life has more value than all
The gold that in India they find.
Not diamonds that brilliantly beam in the mine,
For time, precious time, should be given:
For gems can but make us look gaudy and fine,
But time can prepare us for heaven.
For time, precious time, should be given:
For gems can but make us look gaudy and fine,
But time can prepare us for heaven.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |