Summer is come; the corn is in the ear,
The haze is swimming where the beeches stand;
Summer is come, though winter months be here—
My love is summer passing through the land.

Summer is come; I hear the skylarks sing,
The honeysuckle flaunts it to the bees;
Summer is come, and ‘tis not yet the spring—
My love is summer blessing all she sees.

Summer is come; I see an open door,
A sweet hand beckons, and I know
That, winter or summer, I shall go forth no more—
My heart is homing where her summer-roses grow.

O FLOWER OF ALL THE WORLD

O flower of all the world, O flower of all,
The garden where thou dwellest is so fair,
Thou art so goodly, and so queenly tall,
Thy sweetness scatters sweetness everywhere,
O flower of all!

O flower of all the years, O flower of all,
A day beside thee is a day of days;
Thy voice is softer than the throstle’s call,
There is not song enough to sing thy praise,
O flower of all!

O flower of all the years, O flower of all,
I seek thee in thy garden, and I dare
To love thee; and though my deserts be small,
Thou art the only flower I would wear,
O flower of all!