Some Pleasant Thoughts

In Summer

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Oh, summer has clothed the earth 

In a cloak from the loom of the sun! 

And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue, 

And a belt where the rivers run.  

And now for the kiss of the wind, 

And the touch of the air's soft hands, 

With the rest from strife and the heat of life, 

With the freedom of lakes and lands.  

I envy the farmer's boy 

Who sings as he follows the plow; 

While the shining green of the young blades lean 

To the breezes that cool his brow.  

He sings to the dewy morn, 

No thought of another's ear; 

But the song he sings is a chant for kings 

And the whole wide world to hear.  

He sings of the joys of life, 

Of the pleasures of work and rest, 

From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art; 

'T is a song of the merriest.  

O ye who toil in the town, 

And ye who moil in the mart, 

Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong 

Shall renew your joy of heart.  

Oh, poor were the worth of the world 

If never a song were heard,— 

If the sting of grief had no relief, 

And never a heart were stirred.

So, long as the streams run down, 
And as long as the robins trill, 
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air, 
And sing in the face of ill.

I am enjoying the gardening season and simply wish for more time out in the sun. Work never ends, beginning at sunrise, ending at sunset. Yet Creation is vast, and to be enjoyed vastly. May you all enjoy the season upon us.

Bed in Summer
by Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?