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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.
Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
Oh, yo' read more
Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
Oh, yo' daddy's rich, and yo' ma' is good-lookin',
So hush, little baby, don' yo' cry.
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with
its usual severity.
Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with
its usual severity.
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
read more
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Lock Katrine blue,
Mildly and soft the western breeze
Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees,
And the pleased lake, like maiden coy,
Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden read more
And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a
lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city.
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.
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer read more
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?