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I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not read more
I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.
The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.
The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.
All labours draw hame at even,
And can to others say,
"Thanks to the gracious God of read more
All labours draw hame at even,
And can to others say,
"Thanks to the gracious God of heaven,
Whilk sent this summer day."
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy read more
That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the
landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, read more
These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
Oh, the summer night
Has a smile of light
And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Oh, the summer night
Has a smile of light
And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
read more
Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden read more
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city.
