Volume Iii Part 8 (2/2)

Sing a song of Summer, The world is nearly still, The mill-pond has gone to sleep, And so has the mill.

Shall we go a-sailing, Or shall we take a ride, Or dream the afternoon away Here, side by side?

Sing a song of Autumn, The world is going back; They glean in the corn-field, And stamp on the stack.

Our boy, Charlie, Tall, strong, and light: He shoots all the day And dances all the night.

Sing a song of Winter, The world stops dead; Under snowy coverlid Flowers lie abed.

There's hunting for the young ones And wine for the old, And a s.e.xton in the churchyard Digging in the cold.

Cosmo Monkhouse [1840-1901]

TURN O' THE YEAR

This is the time when bit by bit The days begin to lengthen sweet And every minute gained is joy-- And love stirs in the heart of a boy.

This is the time the sun, of late Content to lie abed till eight, Lifts up betimes his sleepy head-- And love stirs in the heart of a maid.

This is the time we dock the night Of a whole hour of candlelight; When song of linnet and thrush is heard-- And love stirs in the heart of a bird.

This is the time when sword-blades green, With gold and purple damascene, Pierce the brown crocus-bed a-row-- And love stirs in a heart I know.

Katherine Tynan Hinkson [1861-1931]

THE WAKING YEAR

A lady red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps!

The tidy breezes with their brooms Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!

Prithee, my pretty housewives!

Who may expected be?

The neighbors do not yet suspect!

The woods exchange a smile,-- Orchard, and b.u.t.tercup, and bird, In such a little while!

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