Summers First Gleaming and the Birth is fine,
Where the Cries were seen in the Fields and Trees,
Now that Spring has but gone it’s fond design,
Unfurling afar by graceful degrees.
To the Rich Rolling-Hills of Verdant greens,
To the sweet incense from the Flowers near,
The music that flows from the rippling Stream,
And the Milky Soft haze by the Woodland Briar.
On the dabbled Paths within the Country Lane,
Gaia smiles in every Blossom and Bough,
The Butterfly and Ladybird that flit and Reign,
On the Rose and Shrub to the distant brow.
Here, all Summer’s Ornaments with Beauty spread,
Long Winter is Past; it’s Tyranny shed .