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...ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE OL' TUNES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE TUFT OF KELP by HERMAN MELVILLE THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD by REBECCA S. REED NICHOLS THE SEARCH FOR LEAVEN by ALTER ABELSON |