Summer

 

by Christina Rossetti

Winter is cold-hearted,

Spring is yea and nay,

Autumn is a weathercock

Blown every way:

Summer days for me

When every leaf is on its tree;

When Robin's not a beggar,

And Jenny Wren's a bride,

And larks hang singing, singing, singing,

Over the wheat-fields wide,

And anchored lilies ride,

And the pendulum spider

Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,

And gnats fly in a host,

And furry caterpillars hasten

That no time be lost,

And moths grow fat and thrive,

And ladybirds arrive.

Before green apples blush,

Before green nuts embrown,

Why, one day in the country

Is worth a month in town;

Is worth a day and a year

Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion

That days drone elsewhere.

The Poppies in the Garden

by Ffrida Wolfe.

The poppies in the garden, they all wear frocks of silk, 

Some are purple, some are pink, and others white as milk, 

Light, light, for dancing in, for dancing when the breeze 

Plays a little two-step for the blossoms and the bees. 

Fine, fine, for dancing in, all frilly at the hem, 

Oh, when I watch the poppies dance I long to dance like them! 

The poppies in the garden have let their silk frocks fall 

All about the border paths, but where are they at all? 

Here a frill and there a flounce — a rag of silky red, 

But not a poppy-girl is left — I think they've gone to bed. 

Gone to bed and gone to sleep; and weary they must be, 

For each has left her box of dreams upon the stem for me.

The Bee

by Edwin Curran

The singing bee comes like a little ship,

And docks beside a rose for cargoed wine,

Its gossamer paddles spinning in the air

A little plane upon the flower vine.

It anchors in the bell upon its quest,

And lulls its motor in the crimson bower,

Then with its honey glides on to the west,

A tiny airplane stealing off a flower.

Its paddles fan the wind in silver singing,

A boom of music down the garden dells;

The honey monoplane with motors ringing,

Its gauze propellers purring like soft bells;

And so it dips and soars and dives and noses,

A little ship among the summer roses.

One of my collection

❤