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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529805" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Departure of Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Summer is gone on swallows' wings, <br>And Earth has buried all her flowers: <br>No more the lark,—the linnet—sings, <br>But Silence sits in faded bowers. <br>There is a shadow on the plain <br>Of Winter ere he comes again,— <br>There is in woods a solemn sound <br>Of hollow warnings whisper'd round, <br>As Echo in her deep recess <br>For once had turn'd a prophetess. <br>Shuddering Autumn stops to list, <br>And breathes his fear in sudden sighs, <br>With clouded face, and hazel eyes <br>That quench themselves, and hide in mist. <br>Yes, Summer's gone like pageant bright; <br>Its glorious days of golden light <br>Are gone—the mimic suns that quiver, <br>Then melt in Time's dark-flowing river. <br>Gone the sweetly-scented breeze <br>That spoke in music to the trees; <br>Gone—for damp and chilly breath, <br>As if fresh blown o'er marble seas, <br>Or newly from the lungs of Death. <br>Gone its virgin roses' blushes, <br>Warm as when Aurora rushes <br>Freshly from the God's embrace, <br>With all her shame upon her face. <br>Old Time hath laid them in the mould; <br>Sure he is blind as well as old, <br>Whose hand relentless never spares <br>Young cheeks so beauty-bright as theirs! <br>Gone are the flame-eyed lovers now <br>From where so blushing-blest they tarried <br>Under the hawthorn's blossom-bough, <br>Gone; for Day and Night are married. <br>All the light of love is fled:— <br>Alas! that negro breasts should hide <br>The lips that were so rosy red, <br>At morning and at even-tide! <br>Delightful Summer! then adieu <br>Till thou shalt visit us anew: <br>But who without regretful sigh <br>Can say, adieu, and see thee fly? <br>Not he that e'er hath felt thy pow'r. <br>His joy expanding like a flow'r, <br>That cometh after rain and snow, <br>Looks up at heaven, and learns to glow:— <br>Not he that fled from Babel-strife <br>To the green sabbath-land of life, <br>To dodge dull Care 'mid clustered trees, <br>And cool his forehead in the breeze,— <br>Whose spirit, weary-worn perchance, <br>Shook from its wings a weight of grief, <br>And perch'd upon an aspen leaf, <br>For every breath to make it dance. <br>Farewell!—on wings of sombre stain, <br>That blacken in the last blue skies, <br>Thou fly'st; but thou wilt come again <br>On the gay wings of butterflies. <br>Spring at thy approach will sprout <br>Her new Corinthian beauties out, <br>Leaf-woven homes, where twitter-words <br>Will grow to songs, and eggs to birds; <br>Ambitious buds shall swell to flowers, <br>And April smiles to sunny hours, <br>Bright days shall be, and gentle nights <br>Full of soft breath and echo-lights, <br>As if the god of sun-time kept <br>His eyes half-open while he slept. <br>Roses shall be where roses were, <br>Not shadows, but reality; <br>As if they never perished there, <br>But slept in immortality: <br>Nature shall thrill with new delight, <br>And Time's relumined river run <br>Warm as young blood, and dazzling bright, <br>As if its source were in the sun! <br>But say, hath Winter then no charms? <br>Is there no joy, no gladness warms <br>His aged heart? no happy wiles <br>To cheat the hoary one to smiles? <br>Onward he comes—the cruel North <br>Pours his furious whirlwind forth <br>Before him—and we breathe the breath <br>Of famish'd bears that howl to death. <br>Onward he comes from the rocks that blanch <br>O'er solid streams that never flow: <br>His tears all ice, his locks all snow, <br>Just crept from some huge avalanche— <br>A thing half-breathing and half-warm, <br>As if one spark began to glow <br>Within some statue's marble form, <br>Or pilgrim stiffened in the storm. <br>Oh! will not Mirth's light arrows fail <br>To pierce that frozen coat of mail? <br>Oh! will not joy but strive in vain <br>To light up those glazed eyes again? <br>No! take him in, and blaze the oak, <br>And pour the wine, and warm the ale; <br>His sides shall shake to many a joke, <br>His tongue shall thaw in many a tale, <br>His eyes grow bright, his heart be gay, <br>And even his palsy charm'd away. <br>What heeds he then the boisterous shout <br>Of angry winds that scowl without, <br>Like shrewish wives at tavern door? <br>What heeds he then the wild uproar <br>Of billows bursting on the shore? <br>In dashing waves, in howling breeze, <br>There is a music that can charm him; <br>When safe, and sheltered, and at ease, <br>He hears the storm that cannot harm him. <br>But hark! those shouts! that sudden din <br>Of little hearts that laugh within. <br>Oh! take him where the youngsters play, <br>And he will grow as young as they! <br>They come! they come! each blue-eyed Sport, <br>The Twelfth-Night King and all his court— <br>'Tis Mirth fresh crown'd with misletoe! <br>Music with her merry fiddles, <br>Joy 'on light fantastic toe,' <br>Wit with all his jests and riddles, <br>Singing and dancing as they go. <br>And Love, young Love, among the rest, <br>A welcome—nor unbidden guest. <br>But still for Summer dost thou grieve? <br>Then read our Poets—they shall weave <br>A garden of green fancies still, <br>Where thy wish may rove at will. <br>They have kept for after-treats <br>The essences of summer sweets, <br>And echoes of its songs that wind <br>In endless music through the mind: <br>They have stamp'd in visible traces <br>The 'thoughts that breathe,' in words that shine— <br>The flights of soul in sunny places— <br>To greet and company with thine. <br>These shall wing thee on to flow'rs— <br>The past or future, that shall seem <br>All the brighter in thy dream <br>For blowing in such desert hours. <br>The summer never shines so bright <br>As thought-of in a winter's night; <br>And the sweetest loveliest rose <br>Is in the bud before it blows; <br>The dear one of the lover's heart <br>Is painted to his longing eyes, <br>In charms she ne'er can realize— <br>But when she turns again to part. <br>Dream thou then, and bind thy brow <br>With wreath of fancy roses now, <br>And drink of Summer in the cup <br>Where the Muse hath mix'd it up; <br>The 'dance, and song, and sun-burnt mirth,' <br>With the warm nectar of the earth: <br>Drink! 'twill glow in every vein, <br>And thou shalt dream the winter through: <br>Then waken to the sun again, <br>And find thy Summer Vision true!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Hood">Thomas Hood</a><div class=q>
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<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=529805" data-title="The Departure of Summer de Thomas Hood" data-description="Summer is gone on swallows' wings, 
And Earth has buried all her flowers: 
No more the lark,—the linnet—sings, 
But Silence sits in faded bowers. 
There is a shadow on the plain 
Of Winter ere he comes again,— 
There is in woods a solemn sou..."></div>
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