Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Summer Days





Summer Days, by Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894

Winter is cold-hearted;
Spring is yea and nay;
Autumn is a weathercock;
Blown every way:
Summer days for me
When 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,
And anchored lilies ride,
And the pendulum spider,
Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,
And gnats fly in a host,
And furry caterpillars hasten
That no time be lost,
And moths grow fat and thrive,
And lady birds arrive.

Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why one day in the country
Is worth a month in town--
Is worth a day and a year
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion
That days drone elsewhere.


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