When shall I hear the thrushes sing, <br /> And see their graceful, round throats swelling? <br />When shall I watch the bluebirds bring <br /> The straws and twiglets for their dwelling? <br />When shall I hear among the trees <br /> The little martial partridge drumming? <br />Oh! Hasten! Sights and sounds that please – <br /> The summer is so long in coming. <br /> <br />The winds are talking with the sun; <br /> I hope they will combine together <br />And melt the snow-drifts, one by one, <br /> And bring again the golden weather. <br />Oh, haste, make haste, dear sun and wind, <br /> I long to hear the brown bee humming; <br />I seek for blooms I cannot find, <br /> The summer is so long in coming. <br /> <br />The winter has been cold, so cold; <br /> Its winds are harsh, and bleak, and dreary, <br />And all its sports are stale and old; <br /> We wait for something now more cheery. <br />Come up, O summer, from the south, <br /> And bring the harps your hands are thrumming. <br />We pine for kisses from your mouth! <br /> Oh! Do not be so long in coming.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/so-long-in-coming/
