In Summer (Paul Lawrence Dunbar)

back in the saddle


posted by Lissa mcKinley on Friday, August 7, 2009 Edit





All- had a wonderful few days in Canada with our friends the Pattersons. I really timed this perfectly as my hair was falling out, then we cut it short just before we left, and finally on the island, it all fell off and I was a happy bowling ball up in the middle of nowhere. I didn't have to face reality at all for 5 days--perfect and really needed. Today, I wore my wig to work and, although I was terribly self conscious, I found that people didn't really know. Again, this was just perfect. I have added a few pictures of Canada. This is the most beautiful place I know where we have to cook together, play together, read together, etc as there is no electricity or easy access to things.Another perfect feature!



I have been remiss in my poetry finding, so try this lovely summer piece:



In Summer (Paul Lawrence Dunbar)





Oh, summer has clothed the earth

In a cloak from the loom of the sun!

And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,

And a belt where the rivers run.



And now for the kiss of the wind,

And the touch of the air's soft hands,

With the rest from strife and the heat of life,

With the freedom of lakes and lands.



I envy the farmer's boy

Who sings as he follows the plow;

While the shining green of the young blades lean

To the breezes that cool his brow.



He sings to the dewy morn,

No thought of another's ear;

But the song he sings is a chant for kings

And the whole wide world to hear.



He sings of the joys of life,

Of the pleasures of work and rest,

From an o'erfull heart, without aim or art;

'T is a song of the merriest.



O ye who toil in the town,

And ye who moil in the mart,

Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong

Shall renew your joy of heart.



Oh, poor were the worth of the world

If never a song were heard,—

If the sting of grief had no relief,

And never a heart were stirred.



So, long as the streams run down,

And as long as the robins trill,

Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,

And sing in the face of ill.