Summer

Summer is icumen in,Lhude sing cuccu!

— Summer

The loorie brought to his cinnamon nest.To welcome the noon of the summer day.

— Summer

That beautiful seasonLay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

— Summer

Very hot and still the air was,Motionless the sleeping shadows.

— Summer

But how many merry monthes be in the yeere? Next to the merry month of May.

— Summer

The summer dawn's reflected hueTrembled but dimpled not for joy.

— Summer

Summer's parching heat.

— Summer

The middle summer's spring.

— Summer

Now is the winter of our discontentIn the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

— Summer

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

— Summer

Thy eternal summer shall not fade.

— Summer

Summer, summer, summertimetime to sit back and unwind.

— Summer

Then came the jolly sommer, being dightThat was unlyned all, to be more light.

— Summer

From brightening fields of ether fair-disclosed,And ever-fanning breezes, on his way.

— Summer

All-conquering Heat, O, intermit thy wrath!Night is far off; and hotter Hours approach.

— Summer

Patient of thirst and toil,Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast.

— Summer

What does winter or autumn or spring or summer know of memory. They know nothing of memory. They know that seasons pass and return. They know that they are seasons. That they are time. And they know how to affirm themselves. And they know how to impose themselves. And they know how to maintain themselves. What does autumn know of summer. What sorrows do seasons have. None hate. None love. They just pass.

— Summer

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

— Summer

O thou who passest through our valleys inWith joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.

— Summer

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.

— Summer

I question not if thrushes sing, When all is summer there.

— Summer

The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul.

— Summer

Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day, Oh, Where's Polly?"

— Summer

Here is the ghostOf summer to be.

— Summer

All labourers draw hame at even, Whilk sent this summer day."

— Summer

Sumer is y cumen in.

— Summer

As a lodge in a garden of cucumbers.

— Summer

O for a lodge in a garden of cucumbers! O for a pleasure trip up to the pole!

— Summer

Summer, as my friend Coleridge waggishly writes, has set in with its usual severity.

— Summer

O summer day beside the joyous sea!To some the landmark of a new domain.

— Summer

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

— Summer

But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?

— Summer

Oh, the summer night And she sits on a sapphire throne.

— Summer

Before green apples blush, Is worth a month in town.

— Summer

Heat, ma'am! it was so dreadful here, that I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.

— Summer