Summer
Winter is cold-heartedSpring is yea and nay,Autumn is a weather-cockBlown every way:Summer days for meWhen every leaf is on its tree;
When Robin’s not a beggar,And Jenny Wren’s a bride,And larks hang singing, singing, singing,Over the wheat-fields wide, 10And anchored lilies ride,And the pendulum spiderSwings from side to side,
And blue-black beetles transact business,And gnats fly in a host,And furry caterpillars hastenThat no time be lost,And moths grow fat and thrive,And ladybirds arrive.
Before green apples blush, 20Before green nuts embrown,Why, one day in the countryIs worth a month in town;Is worth a day and a yearOf the dusty, musty, lag-last fashionThat days drone elsewhere.