Oh, summer has clothed the earth <br />In a cloak from the loom of the sun! <br />And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue, <br />And a belt where the rivers run. <br /> <br />And now for the kiss of the wind, <br />And the touch of the air's soft hands, <br />With the rest from strife and the heat of life, <br />With the freedom of lakes and lands. <br /> <br />I envy the farmer's boy <br />Who sings as he follows the plow; <br />While the shining green of the young blades lean <br />To the breezes that cool his brow. <br /> <br />He sings to the dewy morn, <br />No thought of another's ear; <br />But the song he sings is a chant for kings <br />And the whole wide world to hear. <br /> <br />He sings of the joys of life, <br />Of the pleasures of work and rest, <br />From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art; <br />'T is a song of the merriest. <br /> <br />O ye who toil in the town, <br />And ye who moil in the mart, <br />Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong <br />Shall renew your joy of heart. <br /> <br />Oh, poor were the worth of the world <br />If never a song were heard,-- <br />If the sting of grief had no relief, <br />And never a heart were stirred. <br /> <br />So, long as the streams run down, <br />And as long as the robins trill, <br />Let us taunt old Care with a merry air, <br />And sing in the face of ill.<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-summer-3/
