SUMMER
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
WHERE
the
light
cannot
pierce
,
in
a
grove
of
all
trees
,
With
my
fair
one
as
blooming
as
May
,
Undisturb'd
by
all
sound
,
but
the
sighs
of
the
breeze
,
Let
me
pass
the
hot
noon
of
the
day
.
When
the
sun
less
intense
to
the
westward
inclines
,
For
the
meadows
the
groves
we'll
forsake
,
And
see
the
rays
dance
as
inverted
he
shines
,
On
the
face
of
some
river
or
lake
.
Where
my
fairest
and
I
,
on
its
verge
as
we
pass
,
For
'tis
she
that
must
still
be
my
theme
,
Our
two
shadows
may
view
on
the
watery
glass
,
While
the
fish
are
at
play
in
the
stream
.
May
the
herds
cease
to
lowe
,
and
the
lambkins
to
bleat
,
When
she
sings
me
some
amorous
strain
;
All
be
silent
,
and
husht
,
unless
Echo
repeat
The
kind
words
,
and
sweet
sounds
back
again
.
And
when
we
return
to
our
cottage
at
night
,
Hand
in
hand
as
we
sauntering
stray
,
Let
the
moon's
silver
beams
thro'
the
leaves
give
us
light
,
Just
direct
us
,
and
chequer
our
way
.
Let
the
Nightingale
warble
its
notes
in
our
walk
,
As
thus
gently
and
slowly
we
move
;
And
let
no
single
thought
be
express'd
in
our
talk
,
But
of
friendship
improv'd
into
love
.
Thus
enchanted
each
day
with
these
rural
delights
,
And
secure
from
Ambition's
alarms
,
Soft
love
and
repose
shall
divide
all
our
nights
,
And
each
morning
shall
rise
with
new
charms
.