Summer has spread a cool, green tent Upon the bare poles of this tree; Where 'tis a joy to sit all day, And hear the small birds' melody; To see the sheep stand bolt upright, Nibbling at grass almost their height. And much I marvel now how men Can waste their fleeting days in greed; That one man should desire more gold Than twenty men should truly need; For is not this green tent more sweet Than any chamber of the great? This tent, at which I spend my day, Was made at Nature's cost, not mine; And when night comes, and I must sleep, No matter if my room be fine Or common, for Content and Health Can sleep without the power of Wealth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SPEAKIN' O' CHRISTMAS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR CAGNES; ON THE RIVIERA by MATHILDE BLIND THE STEALING OF THE MARE; AN ARABIC EPIC OF THE TENTH CENTURY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE AUTHOR'S COAT OF ARMS by JOHN BYROM |