'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun <br />Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. <br />O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye <br />Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all <br />From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. <br />In vain the sight, dejected, to the ground <br />Stoops for relief; thence hot ascending steams <br />And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root <br />Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields <br />And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, <br />Blast fancy's bloom, and wither even the soul. <br />Echo no more returns the cheerful sound <br />Of sharpening scythe: the mower sinking, heaps <br />O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed; <br />And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard <br />Through the dumb mead. Distressful nature pants. <br />The very streams look languid from afar: <br />Or, through th' unshelter'd glad, impatient, seem <br />To hurl into the covert of the grove. <br />All-conquering heat, oh, intermit thy wrath, <br />And on my throbbing temples potent thus <br />Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow, <br />And still another fervent flood succeeds, <br />Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, <br />And restless turn, and look around for night; <br />Night is far off, and hotter hours approach. <br />Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side <br />Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, <br />Beneath the whole collected shade reclines: <br />Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, <br />And fresh bedew'd with ever sprouting streams, <br />Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, <br />Unsatisfied and sick, tosses in noon. <br />Emblem instructive of the virtuous ma, <br />Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure <br />And every passion aptly harmonised, <br />Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed.<br /><br />James Thomson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-summer-noon/
