Poems (Gifford)/Summer
For works with similar titles, see Summer.
SUMMER.
Oh, bright, sweet summertide! we give to theeOur truest, heartiest welcome. Through long weeksOf dreariness and dulness we have dreamtOf thy unnumbered glories, and have watchedWith earnest longing for thy first approach.Now thou hast come, and we are glad indeed.
No lack of verdure now; the stately trees,That all the winter and far into springSeemed bare and dead, flutter their leafy plumesResponsive to the zephyr's loving kiss,Blending a strength and beauty all their own.
How green are all the meadows and how gay,Until the mower comes with ruthless scythe,And then what sweetness follows in his train!
And what a world of blossom everywhere!The wild rose decorates the wayside hedgeWith long festoons richly bedight with gems,And its still fairer garden sister bloomsIn grand profusion, and varietyOf habit, and of colour, and of form.Who can compute the multitude of flowersThat yield their grace and fragrance to enhanceThe gladness of this yearly festival?
And oh, the woods! the cool, refreshing woods,Where nature vegetates in wildest mood,Where giant trees almost exclude the sky,And branches of the lavish undergrowthOf hazel and of hornbeam meet o'erheadIn tangled masses, and where all aroundIn tropical luxuriance the brakeExpands its countless fronds, and various fernsVie with each other the fair scene to grace,While the free honeysuckle rampant climbs, And trailing ivy, or abundant grass,Or soft moss carpets the entire expanse.
And oh, the waving cornfields! green as yet,But promising a golden store ere long.Oh, the soft airs that play around our cheeks!And oh, the universal harmonyOf ever-varying sound! oh, the calm sea,Whose myriad wavelets glitter in the sun!Oh, the broad, shining river, mirroringThe boundless azure sky!
'Tis lovely all.Thou peerless summer, words are vain, and poor,And weak indeed to photograph thy charms;But, drinking in thy joy, we love thee well,And to our bounteous Father we look upAnd sing, "Oh, Lord, how manifold Thy works,In wisdom hast Thou made them all; the earthIs teeming with Thy riches!"
Yet, e'en nowOur hearts look ever forward yearninglyTo a far fairer clime, a fuller life,An endless summertide of all our hopes,That eye not yet hath seen, nor heart conceived;Where storm can ne'er disturb its perfect peace,Where cloud can never dim, nor sunblaze scorch,Nor thorn, nor thistle, neither drought, nor blightCan introduce one marring element;But where the ransomed rest in pastures green,Entirely blest, entirely satisfied!