Summer Quotes ( 10 - 20 of 25 )
O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
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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!
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with
its usual severity.
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with
its usual severity.
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.
Very hot and still the air was,
Very smooth the gliding river,
Motionless the sleeping shadows.
Very hot and still the air was,
Very smooth the gliding river,
Motionless the sleeping shadows.
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.
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.
Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
And Jamie's after robins, and the man is read more
Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will,
"Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
Oh, where's Polly?"
Here is the ghost
Of a summer that lived for us,
Here is a promise
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Here is the ghost
Of a summer that lived for us,
Here is a promise
Of summer to be.
O thou who passest through our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
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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.
