<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116439" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Summer Wind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a sultry day; the sun has drank<br>The dew that lay upon the morning grass,<br>There is no rustling in the lofty elm<br>That canopies my dwelling, and its shade<br>Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint<br>And interrupted murmur of the bee,<br>Settling on the sick flowers, and then again<br>Instantly on the wing. The plants around<br>Feel the too potent fervors; the tall maize<br>Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops<br>Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.<br>But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,<br>With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,<br>As if the scortching heat and dazzling light<br>Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,<br>Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven;--<br>Their bases on the mountains--their white tops<br>Shining in the far ether--fire the air<br>With a reflected radiance, and make turn<br>The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie<br>Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,<br>Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,<br>Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind<br>That still delays its coming. Why so slow,<br>Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?<br>Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth<br>Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves<br>He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,<br>The pine is bending his proud top, and now,<br>Among the nearer groves, chesnut and oak<br>Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!<br>Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in wives!<br>The deep distressful silence of the scene<br>Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds<br>And universal motion. He is come,<br>Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,<br>And bearing on the fragrance; and he brings<br>Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,<br>And soun of swaying branches, and the voice<br>Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs<br>Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,<br>By the road-side and the borders of the brook,<br>Nod gaily to each other; glossy leaves<br>Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew<br>Were on them yet, and silver waters break<br>Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116439" data-title="Summer Wind de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="It is a sultry day; the sun has drank/The dew that lay upon the morning grass,/There is no rustling in the lofty elm/That canopies my dwelling, and its shade/Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint/And interrupted murmur of the bee,/Settlin..."></div> </div> </div>

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