How like children in full run
neath the ever-fixed sun,
and the daylight hours never done.
How like finches in the sky
twittering love’s lullaby
over the barley and the rye.
How like gold koi in the lake,
scales sparkling while wavelets wake
and eternity in their make.
How like the buck and the doe,
leaves above, lilies below,
frolicking wherever we go.
How like a husband and wife,
forever this lovely life,
never fearing Time’s reaping scythe.
When high or low, green or gold,
we are as children grown old
as the Summers of true love hold.
Should it end, this Summertime,
and chill to a colder clime,
yet would love glow gold on the rime.