Classic Poem

I

See once again our village; with its street
Dozing in dusty sunshine. All around
Is silence; save, for slumber not unmeet,
Some spinning-wheel's continuous whirring sound
From cottage door, where, stretch'd upon his side,
The moveless dog is basking, drowsy-eyed.

II

The hollyhocks that rise above a wall
Sleep in the richness of their crusted blooms;
Up the hot glass the sluggish blue flies crawl;
The heavy bee is humming into rooms
Through open window, like a sturdy rover,
Bringing with him warm scents of thyme and clover.

III

With herb and flow'r you smell the ripening fruit
In cottage gardens, on the sultry air;
But every bird has vanish'd, hiding mute
In eave and hedgegrow; save that here and there
With twitter swift, the sole unrestful thing,
Shoots the dark lightning of a swallow's wing.