Classic Poem

O, summer sweet! O, summer fair!
Now forest ways are dusk and cool,
And radiant through the sunlit air,
The dragon-flies dart o'er the pool.

The heavy heads of bearded wheat,
Wave slowly, rich with harvest gold,
And in the orchard's dim retreat,
The birds a merry council hold.

The crimson poppy bows its head
Where late the rose and pink were seen,
And gladioles, and fuchsias red,
Burn in the garden's robe of green.

Where hollyhocks nod in the breeze,
And clover blossoms lowly bloom,
The golden-dusted bumble bees
Revel in honey and perfume.

The purple swallows circling fly,
Where ruined stands the ancient barn;
The blackbird sends its whistling cry,
Across the placid mountain tarn.

I hear the chatter of the wren
Along the vine-clad, tumbling wall;
And safe hid in the distant fen,
The heron wakes his dreamy call.

Free from the mist of early morn,
The brooks through shaded valleys run;
The low winds toss the growing corn,
The wheat fields shimmer in the sun.

Where, by the river, willows stand,
With branches falling long and lithe,
In level sweeps of meadow land,
The stalwart mowers swing the scythe.

The patient oxen lingering pass
Along the maple-shaded road,
Or standing, crop the scented grass,
While men pile high the scented load.

Each year I seek the sturdy oak
That crowns the wind-swept, lonely hill,
And see the city's looming smoke,
The river flowing deep and still:

And lying there, the long years fade,
And toil and care are all forgot;
The world lies wide beyond the shade,—
Love makes a world of that small spot.

There, when along the mellow skies,
Rippled the waves of noontide heat,
Love's answer came from gray-blue eyes,
O, summer fair! O, summer sweet!