Explore Quotes on Summer

June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;_x000D__x000D_In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,_x000D__x000D_In vain would fond winds fan her back to life,_x000D__x000D_Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.

It always seemed to me that the herbaceous peony is the very epitome of June. Larger than any rose, _x000D__x000D_it has something of the cabbage rose's voluminous quality; and when it finally drops from the vase, it _x000D__x000D_sheds its petticoats with a bump on the table, all in an intact heap, much as a rose will suddenly fall, _x000D__x000D_making us look up from our book or conversation, to notice for one moment the death of what had _x000D__x000D_still appeared to be a living beauty.

In a bowl to sea went wise men three, _x000D__x000D_On a brilliant night of June: _x000D__x000D_They carried a net, and their hearts were set _x000D__x000D_On fishing up the moon.

June is bustin' out all over.

Tell you what I like the best -_x000D__x000D_'Long about knee-deep in June,_x000D__x000D_'Bout the time strawberries melts_x000D__x000D_On the vine, - some afternoon_x000D__x000D_Like to jes' git out and rest,_x000D__x000D_And not work at nothin' else!

How do you like to go up in a swing,_x000D__x000D_Up in the air so blue?_x000D__x000D_Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing_x000D__x000D_Ever a child can do!_x000D__x000D_Up in the air and over the wall,_x000D__x000D_Till I can see so wide,_x000D__x000D_River and trees and cattle and all_x000D__x000D_Over the countryside. _x000D__x000D_Till I look down on the garden green,_x000D__x000D_Down on the roof so brown-_x000D__x000D_Up in the air I go flying again,_x000D__x000D_Up in the air and down!

It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk_x000D__x000D_The dew that lay upon the morning grass;_x000D__x000D_There is no rustling in the lofty elm_x000D__x000D_That canopies my dwelling, and its shade_x000D__x000D_Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint_x000D__x000D_And interrupted murmur of the bee,_x000D__x000D_Settling on the sick flowers, _x000D__x000D_And then again Instantly on the wing.

Heed not the night; _x000D__x000D_A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, _x000D__x000D_'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree,_x000D__x000D_'Tis mantled by the vine.

And pray, who are you?"_x000D__x000D_Said the Violet blue_x000D__x000D_To the Bee, with surprise,_x000D__x000D_At his wonderful size,_x000D__x000D_In her eyeglass of dew._x000D__x000D_"I, madam," quoth he,_x000D__x000D_"Am a publican Bee,_x000D__x000D_Collecting the tax_x000D__x000D_Of honey and wax._x000D__x000D_Have you nothing for me?

To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June

A bird in the boughs sang "June," _x000D__x000D_And "June" hummed a bee _x000D__x000D_In a Bacchic glee _x000D__x000D_As he tumbled over and over _x000D__x000D_Drunk with the honey-dew.

Long about knee-deep in June,_x000D__x000D_'Bout the time strewberries melts_x000D__x000D_On the vine.

The end of spring- the poet is brooding about editors.

How sociable the garden was._x000D__x000D_We ate and talked in given light._x000D__x000D_The children put their toys to grass_x000D__x000D_All the warm wakeful August night.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;_x000D__x000D_He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate._x000D__x000D_And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,_x000D__x000D_And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. _x000D__x000D_Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;_x000D__x000D_The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,_x000D__x000D_And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;_x000D__x000D_But there is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey has struck out.

Well I'm a-gonna raise a fuss, I'm gonna raise a holler_x000D__x000D_About workin' all summer just to try an' earn a dollar_x000D__x000D_Everytime I call my baby, to try to get a date_x000D__x000D_My boss says, no dice, son, you gotta work late_x000D__x000D_Sometimes I wonder what I'm gonna do_x000D__x000D_'cause there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.

Home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes_x000D__x000D_What would life be like without homegrown tomatoes_x000D__x000D_Only two things that money can't buy_x000D__x000D_That's true love and home grown tomatoes.

The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by. As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.

Oh that it were with me_x000D__x000D_As with the flower;_x000D__x000D_Blooming on its own tree_x000D__x000D_For butterfly and bee_x000D__x000D_Its summer morns:_x000D__x000D_That I might bloom mine hour _x000D__x000D_A rose in spite of thorns._x000D__x000D__x000D_Oh that my work were done_x000D__x000D_As birds' that soar_x000D__x000D_Rejoicing in the sun:_x000D__x000D_That when my time is run_x000D__x000D_And daylight too,_x000D__x000D_I so might rest once more_x000D__x000D_Cool with refreshing dew.

For summer there, bear in mind, is a loitering gossip, that only begins to talk of leaving when September rises to go.

Peacefully_x000D__x000D_The quiet stars came out, one after one;_x000D__x000D_The holy twilight fell upon the sea,_x000D__x000D_The summer day was done.