Song Of Summer Days

Sing a song of hollow logs, Chirp of cricket, croak of frogs, Cry of wild bird, hum of bees, Dancing leaves and whisp’ring trees; Legs all bare and dusty toes, Ruddy cheeks and freckled nose, Splash of brook and swish of line, Where the song that’s half so fine?

Sing a song of summer days, Leafy nooks and shady ways, Nodding roses, apples red, Clover like a carpet spread; Sing a song of running brooks, Cans of bait and fishing hooks, Dewy hollows, yellow moons, Birds a-pipe with merry tunes.

Sing a song of skies of blue, Eden’s garden made anew, Scarlet hedges, leafy lanes, Vine-embowered sills and panes; Stretch of meadows, splashed with dew, Silver clouds with sunlight through, Cry of loon and pipe of wren, Sing and call it home again.