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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.
Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
read more
Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
Is worth a month in town.
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.
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
read more
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
read more
O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer,
Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
Oh, yo' read more
Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
Oh, yo' daddy's rich, and yo' ma' is good-lookin',
So hush, little baby, don' yo' cry.
O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
read more
O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
O for a vale that at midday the dew cumbers!
O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer read more
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
