A week ago I had a fire
To warm my feet, my hands and face;
Cold winds, that never make a friend,
Crept in and out of every place.
Today the fields are rich in grass,
And buttercups in thousands grow;
I'll show the world where I have been--
With gold-dust seen on either shoe.
Till to my garden back I come,
Where bumble-bees for hours and hours
Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,
To wriggle out of hollow flowers.
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Comments1Wowzers, this poem totally fills me with the joys of summer, its just bursting with nature. I really like the contrast too, its cold one minute, then wham! its summer. I can almost feel the warmth and see the gold dust on my shoes! Makes me wanna go for a hike.