Loud is the summer's busy song_x000D_ _x000D_ The smallest breeze can find a tongue,_x000D_ _x000D_ While insects of each tiny size_x000D_ _x000D_ Grow teasing with their melodies,_x000D_ _x000D_ Till noon burns with its blistering breath_x000D_ _x000D_ Around, and day lies still as death.
John ClareRead