_The Seasons: Summer_. J. THOMSON.
From all the misty morning air, there comes a summer sound,
A murmur as of waters from skies, and trees, and ground.
The birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo.
_A Midsummer Song_. R.W. GILDER.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
_The Bee_. E. DICKINSON.
Still as night
Or summer's noontide air.
_Paradise Lost, Bk. II_. MILTON.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.
_A Christmas Carol_. S.T. COLERIDGE.
The Summer looks out from her brazen tower,
Through the flashing bars of July.
_A Corymbus for Autumn_. F. THOMPSON.
Dead is the air, and still! the leaves of the locust and walnut
Lazily hang from the boughs, inlaying their intricate outlines
Rather on space than the sky,--on a tideless expansion of slumber.
_Home Pastorals: August_. B. TAYLOR.
AUTUMN.
Then came the Autumne, all in yellow clad,
As though he joyed in his plenteous store,
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, full glad
That he had banished hunger, which to-fore
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore;
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore,
And in his hand a sickle he did holde,
To reape the ripened fruit the which the earth had yold.
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