The sun holds all the earth and all the sky From the gold throne of this midsummer day. In the soft air the shadow of a sighBreathes on the leaves and scarcely makes them sway. The wood lies silent in the shimmering heat, Save where the insects make a lazy drone, And ever and anon from some tree near, A dove’s enamoured moan, Or distant rook’s faint cawing harsh and sweet, Comes dimly floating to my listening ear.
