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 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? 
 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. 
 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. 
 Here is the ghost
 Of a summer that lived for us,
  Here is a promise
  read more 
 Here is the ghost
 Of a summer that lived for us,
  Here is a promise
   Of summer to be. 
 These are the forgeries of jealousy;
 And never, since the middle summer's spring,
  Met we on hill, read more 
 These are the forgeries of jealousy;
 And never, since the middle summer's spring,
  Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
   By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
    Or in the beached margent of the sea,
     To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
      But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. 
 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. 
 Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
 And Jamie's after robins, and the man is read more 
 Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
 And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
  And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
   While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will,
    "Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
     Oh, where's Polly?" 
 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! 
 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.