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Invocation To Summer.
By W. M. MacKeracher
Come, Summer, come, nor in the south delay;
We do thee honor with a longer day;
We prize thee more, we better know thy worth;
We hold thee dearer in the truer north:
Come, Summer, come.
Come, Summer, come, and in the early dawn
Find sparkling dewdrops on the fragrant lawn;
Hush all before thy majesty at noon,
And hallow the long evening hours; come soon,
Come, Summer, come.
Come, Summer, come, make meadow grasses long;
Make all the groves exuberant with song,
The pasture corners canopy with shades,
And thickly roof the silent forest glades:
Come, Summer, come.
Come, Summer, come, and with thy magic breath
Make consummation of the death of death;
Complete the work of thy sweet sister, Spring;
Life more abundantly give everything:
Come, Summer, come.
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