Same Scene: Summer Solstice Version!
THEY COME! THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS
They come! the merry summer months
of beauty, song, and flowers;
They come! the gladsome months
that bring thick leafiness to bowers.
Up, up, my heart! and walk abroad; flinging care aside;
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful waters glide;
Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal tree,
Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquility.*
by William Motherwell, 1797 - 1835
Scottish poet, antiquary and journalist
“And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days.”
~ from "The Vision of Sir Launfal"
~ by James Russell Lowell, 1819 – 1891
American Romantic Poet
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My friend Melani's version:
They come! the sultry summer months
when the seashore house is not ours;
They come! the overwhelming months
when wisteria spreads, a little shop of horrors.
Up, up, my weary bones; into the garden, flinging weeds aside
A losing battle; and time to cut the dying apple tree
and dig beneath to take the oil tank which threatens, underground
to leak its residue and kill the grassy lawn.
A poor attempt at poetry, yes?
No! We love it!
