| |
| SWEET is the voice that calls | |
| From the babbling waterfalls | |
| In meadows where the downy seeds are flying; | |
| And soft the breezes blow, | |
| And eddying come and go | 5 |
| In faded gardens where the rose is dying. | |
| |
| Among the stubbled corn | |
| The blithe quail pipes at morn, | |
| The merry partridge drums in hidden places, | |
| And glittering insects gleam | 10 |
| Above the reedy stream, | |
| Where busy spiders spin their filmy laces. | |
| |
| At eve, cool shadows fall | |
| Across the garden wall, | |
| And on the clustered grapes to purple turning; | 15 |
| And pearly vapors lie | |
| Along the eastern sky, | |
| Where the broad harvest-moon is redly burning. | |
| |
| Ah, soon on field and hill | |
| The wind shall whistle chill, | 20 |
| And patriarch swallows call their flocks together, | |
| To fly from frost and snow, | |
| And seek for lands where blow | |
| The fairer blossoms of a balmier weather. | |
| |
| The cricket chirps all day, | 25 |
| “O fairest summer, stay!” | |
| The squirrel eyes askance the chestnuts browning; | |
| The wild fowl fly afar | |
| Above the foamy bar, | |
| And hasten southward ere the skies are frowning. | 30 |
| |
| Now comes a fragrant breeze | |
| Through the dark cedar-trees, | |
| And round about my temples fondly lingers, | |
| In gentle playfulness, | |
| Like to the soft caress | 35 |
| Bestowed in happier days by loving fingers. | |
| |
| Yet, though a sense of grief | |
| Comes with the falling leaf, | |
| And memory makes the summer doubly pleasant, | |
| In all my autumn dreams | 40 |
| A future summer gleams, | |
| Passing the fairest glories of the present! | |
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