Even so, there were times I saw freshness and beauty. I could smell the air, and I really loved rock 'n' roll. Tears were warm, and girls were beautiful, like dreams. I liked movie theaters, the darkness and intimacy, and I liked the deep, sad summer nights.
Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you. Wish all your dear ones with this lovely summer card.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
Heat, ma'am! it was so dreadful here, that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones. There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.
It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains...
Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. Summer makes me drowsy still it makes me sing.
O for a summer noon, when light and breeze Sport on the grass, like ripples o'er a lake. When the full round Sun, With the Creator's smile upon his face, Walks like a prince of glory through the path Of Heaven!— Thou vast, and ever-glorious sky, Mantling the earth with thy majestic robe...
I am summer, come to lure you away from your computer... come dance on my fresh grass, dig your toes into my beaches. Nothing is more memorable than a smell.
Then followed that beautiful season... Summer... Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape. Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year — it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. A summer's sun is worth the having.
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, We are happy now because God so wills it; No matter how barren the past may have been, It is enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well.
I drifted into a summer-nap under the hot shade of July, serenaded by a cicada lullaby, to drowsy-warm dreams of distant thunder. Send this summer card to greet the lovely season.
Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health;
The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green; and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigor of the year; all things were glad and flourishing.
The great trees, which had looked shrunken and bare in the earlier months, had now burst into strong life and health; and stretching forth their green arms over the thirsty ground, converted open and naked spots into choice nooks, where was a deep and pleasant shade from which to look upon the wide prospect, steeped in sunshine, which lay stretched out beyond.
The breezes taste of apple peel. The air is full of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, new books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cut Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean with suds, the days are polished with a morning haze.
Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumined, The gentlest look of spring; That calls from yonder leafy shade Unfed, yet prepared to fade, A timely caroling.
Shine on, shine on harvest moon Up in the sky, I ain't had no loving'. Since January, February, June or July Snow Time ain't no time to stay Outdoors and spoon, So shine one, shine on harvest noon For me and my gal.
Further, in summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass a minor Nation celebrates its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be seen
so gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness.
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