Although summer opened officially this week, and policemen offer encouragement to the sun with white helmets, dull, wintry conditions with cloud and fog have been hanging over many parts of the State.
When Summer comes To silence the retreating drums Of stubborn Winter, when content Shall salve my chill predicament. And I shall loll beneath the sun And dream of duties to be done; While Phyllis my tall beaker fills And Strephon dances on the hills And pipes a lay, I'll take my ease And listen to the laboring bees. And mock their dull industrious hums -- When Summer comes. When Summer's here And laborers look upon their beer Most lovingly, while winking foam Lisps, "Send me home! Ah, send me home!" And they, intoning briefly, "'Sluck!" Its gladness 'neath their pinnies tuck, I, too, mayhap, shall send a pot, Spurlos versunken, to that spot Its magic warms; lest that stern man Who rules my dietetic plan Burbles, "Verboten!" as I fear When Summer's here. When Summer shines, Then to blue seas my choice inclines Where nymphs upon the golden sands Hold out Nirvana in glad hands, Or run to greet the languorous sea And, with mermaiden modesty, Frisk in foam. Then would I seize -- Despite my ageing arteries -- Joy by the beard! Unless, alack, A flock of olden ills come back, As come they will, by all the signs, When Summer shines. When Summer comes Oh, let me loll 'neath sunlit gums -- Yet, I don't know. A man must eat, Come winter hail or summer heat; And, that he eat, a man must toil. Aye, tho' arterial systems boil. Wherefore, 'twill likely be my lot, As hitherto when days wax hot, To yearn again in longing lays For brisk, crisp, Winter's bracing days To earn a few poor meagre crumbs When Summer comes.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2003|