My books I'd fain cast off,
I cannot read, 'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large Down in the meadow, where is richer feed, And will not mind to hit their proper target
Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too, Our Shakespeare's ...
Who has not waked to list the busy sounds Of summer's morning, in the sultry smoke Of noisy London
On the pavement hot The sooty chimney-boy, with dingy face And tatter'd covering, shrilly bawls his trade,
Rousing the sleepy housemaid
Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me
Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head
Confess'd from yonder slow-extinguish'd clouds,
All ether softening, sober Evening
Her wonted station in the middle air;
She sends on earth; then that of deeper
Нырнуть с головою в лето,
И лечь на песок, пока
Во мне ещё бьется море
И кружится голова.
Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come, For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom, And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest, And love is burning diamonds in my true lover's breast; She sits beneath the wh...
Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky,
A thousand shapes, or glide athwart the dusk,
Or stalk majestic on
Deep-roused,
O Phoebus
down the western sky,
Far hence diffuse thy burning ray,
Thy light to distant worlds supply,
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
But most where trees are sending Their breezy boughs on high,
Summer looked for long am I:
Much shall change or e'er I die
Prithee take it not
Though I weary thee with bliss
Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile
Came wing'd abroad; by the light air
Lighter, and full of soul
From every