Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all read more

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this son of York;
And all the clouds that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

In lang, lang days o' simmer,
When the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses ae weep drap o' read more

In lang, lang days o' simmer,
When the clear and cloudless sky
Refuses ae weep drap o' rain
To Nature parched and dry,
The genial night, wi' balmy breath,
Gars verdue, spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass
Keps its ain drap o' dew.

All labours draw hame at even,
And can to others say,
"Thanks to the gracious God of read more

All labours draw hame at even,
And can to others say,
"Thanks to the gracious God of heaven,
Whilk sent this summer day."

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
read more

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer read more

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of read more

O summer day beside the joyous sea!
O summer day so wonderful and white,
So full of gladness and so full of pain!
Forever and forever shalt thou be
To some the gravestone of a dead delight,
To some the landmark of a new domain.

Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
read more

Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
Is worth a month in town.

That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy read more

That beautiful season
. . . the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the
landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
read more

O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers!
O for an iceberg or two at control!
O for a vale that at midday the dew cumbers!
O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!