The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel — Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such.
—John UpdikeNow the time has come to leave you One more time Let me kiss you Then close your eyes I’ll be on my way.
—John DenverLose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
—Elizabeth BishopO harvest of my lands! O boundless summer growths! O lavish, brown, parturient earth! O infinite, teeming womb!
—Walt WhitmanShe is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.
—Toni MorrisonSummer, do your worst! Light your tinsel moon, and call on Your performing stars to fall on Headlong through your paper sky.
—Dorothy ParkerI envy the farmer's boy Who sings as he follows the plow; While the shining green of the young blades lean To the breezes that cool his brow.
—Paul Laurence DunbarHigh in the evening elm the robin tries his notes . . . To sleep, to sleep, while star by star the sky opens, and far and high eternity rides by.
—Charles MalamListen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin.
—Matthew ArnoldI’m a sailor ashore with stories to tell Who will hear me I pray? I have a voice and a soul all alone. Who will lend me a moment of ear?
—Conrad NeumannRemember you are all people and all people are you. Remember you are this universe and this universe is you. Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
—Joy HarjoThat beautiful season the Summer! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
—Henry Wadsworth LongfellowA single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet — One perfect rose.
—Dorothy ParkerPink to the peach and pink to the apple, White to the pear. Stars are come to the dogwood, Astral, pale; Mists are pink on the red-bud, Veil after veil.
—Willa CatherWisteria woke me this morning, And there was all June in the garden; I felt them, early, warning Lest I miss any part of the day.
—Ann McGoughOh! that we two were Maying Down the stream of the soft spring breeze; Like children with violets playing, In the shade of the whispering trees.
—Charles KingsleyThe wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard wall, But for me the spring is done.
—Sara TeasdaleO day after day we can’t help growing older Year after year spring can’t help seeming younger Come let’s enjoy our winecup today, Nor pity the flowers fallen.
—Wang WeiThere’s a Polar Bear in our Frigidaire—He likes it ‘cause it’s cold in there. With his seat in the meat, And his face in the fish, And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish.
—Shel SilversteinThe scarlet maple-keys betray what potent blood hath modest May; What fiery force the earth renews, the wealth of forms, the flush of hues; Joy shed in rosy waves abroad.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson