How shall I meet thee, Summer, wont to fill <br />My heart with gladness, when thy pleasant tide <br />First came, and on the Coomb's romantic side <br />Was heard the distant cuckoo's hollow bill! <br />Fresh flowers shall fringe the margin of the stream, <br />As with the songs of joyance and of hope <br />The hedge-rows shall ring loud, and on the slope <br />The poplars sparkle in the passing beam; <br />The shrubs and laurels that I loved to tend, <br />Thinking their May-tide fragrance would delight, <br />With many a peaceful charm, thee, my poor friend, <br />Shall put forth their green shoots, and cheer the sight! <br />But I shall mark their hues with sadder eyes, <br />And weep the more for one who in the cold earth lies!<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/approach-of-summer/
