Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1832.pdf/55

Rh

Rh

, shining summer, Art thou bringing now Colours to the red rose, Green leaves to the bough, Music to the singing birds, And honey to the bee; Summer, shining summer, Oh, welcome unto thee.

Now linger in our valley, Oh, why should thou go forth, To thaw the snow and icicles Of the eternal North? Where wilt thou find a valley More lovely for your home? Ah! even now the shadows Are lengthening as they come.

Well, Autumn, thou art welcome, With sheaves of ripened corn, The hunter's moon is shining, The hills ring with his horn. The grapes are dyed with purple, The leaves are tinged with red, And the green and golden plumage Of the pheasant's wing is spread.

What? snow upon the mountains! Heap pine boughs on the hearth; Broach ye the crimson Malvoisie, Let the old hall ring with mirth. Fill the lattices with holly, Let the lamps and torches blaze, And let the ancient harper Sing songs of other days.