  SUMMER is sweet, ay! summer is sweet,— Minna mine with the brown, brown eyes: Red are the roses under his feet, Clear the blue of his windless skies. Pleasant it is in a boat to glide On a river whose ripples to ocean haste, With indolent fingers fretting the tide, And an indolent arm round a darling waist— And to see as the Western purple dies, Hesper mirrored in brown, brown eyes. Summer is fleet, ah! summer is fleet,— Minna mine with the brown, brown eyes: Onward travel his flying feet, And the mystical colours of autumn rise. Clouds will gather round evening star— Sorrow may silence our first gay rhyme,— The river’s swift ripples flow tardier far Than the golden minutes of love’s sweet time: But to me, whom omnipotent love makes wise, There’s endless summer in brown, brown eyes. Mortimer Collins. |
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