WHEN the glowing days grow long
’Mid the blossom, sweet my fare,
Sweet the burden of my song
Floating on the summer air,
    When the garden is ablaze,
    And all nature wakes to praise
    Glories of the dreaming days
Sipping, singing, I am there.

Now by honeysuckle bloom,
Now by pentstemon I cling;
Now the golden glow of broom
Lures me to the banqueting.
    In full many a scented bower
    Here I bend to kiss the flower,
    And, thro’ many a sunlit hour,
Sing and sip, and sip and sing.

Winter comes, and I am gone,
Seeking kindlier fields afar;
For where burning colours shone
Frost and desolation are.
    But, when lengthening days relearn
    Olden lures, shall I return
    And again when colours burn
Trill a sweet, melodious bar.