IN summer-time when haymaking's there And master fish leap out of the pools, I'll take an oak for my easy chair, Be club and president, ruler and rules. The dew of the dawn there haunts all day, The silver ripple and willow-wren chime; The bee will pass on his gipsying way And everything dote on summer-time. If sweet it is to be safe ashore When the merchantman plunges into the trough, I think that ambush is sweetness galore Whence I may study, some furlongs off, Old ale-faced industry mopping his brow, Hot shouldering and shaping heap on heap, While I sit under the church-cool bough And a Dryad will peep when she thinks I'm asleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ENAMEL GIRL by GENEVIEVE TAGGARD THE COMPLAINT OF POETIE, FOR THE DEATH OF LIBERALITE by RICHARD BARNFIELD A SHEPHERD'S DREAM by NICHOLAS BRETON SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHO HE HAD OFFENDED by ROBERT BURNS THE DREAM OF THE ROPEMAKER'S SON by RHYS CARPENTER A REFLECTION ON ODES: BOOK II, 10 BY HORACE by WILLIAM COWPER BELVOIR CASTLE; WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF DUCHESS OF RUTLAND by GEORGE CRABBE TALES OF THE HALL: BOOK 7. THE ELDER BROTHER by GEORGE CRABBE |