Summer

Wreaths on her brow, and blossoms in her hand,
     Music, and sunshine, and the fragrant breath
Of the voluptuous wind from the South land
     Attending, while the Spring-time vanisheth,
SUMMER comes forth! How regally she lifts
     Her stately head, and like a crowned Queen
     Assumes her sceptre—yet with gentlest mien
And prodigal hand she scatters choicest gifts
     Over the earth, making the valleys smile
     With verdure, and the hills exult the while.
The cheerful laborer, toiling all day long
     Amid the golden harvest, owns her power,
     And as his heart rejoices in her dower,
He blesses Summer in his frequent song.