HOT Summer comes And hums A drowsy tune. In June The flies are young, Among The flowers just blown They drone. When August's told They're old, And fall asleep Sunk deep In parched-up grass. Like glass Lies each small pool, And cool The old fish swim By slim And graceful reeds; The meads Have lost their rills, The hills In slumber lie, The sky Is vastly deep And sleep Folds round the lands Her hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMOTHERED FIRES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM MARION REEDY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |