Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
Oh, yo' daddy's rich, and yo' ma' is good-lookin',
So hush, little baby, don' yo' cry.
- Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward,
Summertime from Porgy and Bess, Sung by Colm Wilkinson
with the London Philamonic Orchestra. Buy the cd here
I walk without flinching through the burning
cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild
grass is majestic and full of music. It is a
fire that solitude presses against my lips.
~Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit
Her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The serene philosophy of the pink rose is steadying.
Its fragrant, delicate petals open fully and are ready
to fall, without regret or disillusion, after only a day
in the sun. It is so every summer. One can almost
hear their pink, fragrant murmur as they settle down
upon the grass:
'Summer, summer, it will always be summer.'
~ Rachel Peden
The rustle of the leaves in summer's hush
When wandering breezes touch them, and the sigh
That filters through the forest, or the gush
That swells and sinks amid the branches high,--
'Tis all the music of the wind, and we
Let fancy float on the aeolian breath.
~ John Gardiner Calkins Brainard
A happy soul, that all the way To heaven hath a summer's day.
~ Richard Crashaw
If a June night could talk, it would probably
boast it invented romance.
~ Bern Williams
In the depth of winter, I finally learned that
within me there lay an invincible summer.
~ Albert Camus (1913 - 1960)
There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.
~ Celia Thaxter
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
~ Wallace Stevens (1879 - 1955)
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So ling lives this, and this gives life to thee.
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet XVIII
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