Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Summer in the South, Paul Laurence Dunbar (1903)

The oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting, 
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid, and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and pinety,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill, 
Streams laugh that erst were quiet, 
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.

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