BETWEEN SEASONS

BETWEEN SEASONS

Thecherry trees are hauntedBy hordes of robber jays,And warmer winds are fanningThe poppies to a blaze.And loosed in fitful flurries,The sweet syringas fall,To lie like little snow-driftsAgainst the garden wall.Upon the laden lattice,In softly rounding shapes,A wealth of tiny clustersAre growing into grapes.Heigho! a drowsy shimmerEnfolds the sunny hours;And humming-birds are hiddenIn scarlet trumpet-flowers.The tenderness of springtimeIs almost overpast;But O, the gracious summer,It comes, it comes at last!

Thecherry trees are hauntedBy hordes of robber jays,And warmer winds are fanningThe poppies to a blaze.And loosed in fitful flurries,The sweet syringas fall,To lie like little snow-driftsAgainst the garden wall.Upon the laden lattice,In softly rounding shapes,A wealth of tiny clustersAre growing into grapes.Heigho! a drowsy shimmerEnfolds the sunny hours;And humming-birds are hiddenIn scarlet trumpet-flowers.The tenderness of springtimeIs almost overpast;But O, the gracious summer,It comes, it comes at last!

Thecherry trees are hauntedBy hordes of robber jays,And warmer winds are fanningThe poppies to a blaze.

Thecherry trees are haunted

By hordes of robber jays,

And warmer winds are fanning

The poppies to a blaze.

And loosed in fitful flurries,The sweet syringas fall,To lie like little snow-driftsAgainst the garden wall.

And loosed in fitful flurries,

The sweet syringas fall,

To lie like little snow-drifts

Against the garden wall.

Upon the laden lattice,In softly rounding shapes,A wealth of tiny clustersAre growing into grapes.

Upon the laden lattice,

In softly rounding shapes,

A wealth of tiny clusters

Are growing into grapes.

Heigho! a drowsy shimmerEnfolds the sunny hours;And humming-birds are hiddenIn scarlet trumpet-flowers.

Heigho! a drowsy shimmer

Enfolds the sunny hours;

And humming-birds are hidden

In scarlet trumpet-flowers.

The tenderness of springtimeIs almost overpast;But O, the gracious summer,It comes, it comes at last!

The tenderness of springtime

Is almost overpast;

But O, the gracious summer,

It comes, it comes at last!


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