Summer, sweet Summer, many-fingered Summer! We hold thee very dear, as well we may: It is the kernel of the year to-day— All hail to thee! thou art a welcome comer! If every insect were a fairy drummer, And I a fifer that could deftly play, We`d give the old Earth such a roundelay That she would cast all thought of labour from her.— Ah! what is this upon my window-pane? Some sulky, drooping cloud comes pouting up, Stamping its glittering feet along the plain!— Well, I will let that idle fancy drop! Oh, how the spouts are bubbling with the rain! And all the earth shines like a silver cup!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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