Summer

by

Marian Jones

The window of summer opens, The sun comes peeping in; It works its magic on the land, A new season to begin. Beside a babbling brook And a field of meadowsweet, The gentle song of summer Plays its rhythmic beat. When the door of summer opens, All around are green clad trees, While the perfume of the flowers Is borne on a cooling breeze. It is the season of delight, The scent of new mown hay; The glory of golden sunset, At the end of a perfect day.

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