112 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
SUMMER. 
Come away ! the sunny hours 
Woo thee far to founts and bowers I 
O'er the very waters now. 
In tlieir play, 
Flowers are shedding beauty's glow ; 
Come away! 
Whore the lily's tender gleam 
Quivers on the glowing stream, 
Come away ! 
All the air is fill'd with sound, 
Soft, and sultry, and profound ; 
Murmurs through the shadowy grass 
Lightly stray ; 
Faint winds whisper as they pass 
Come away ! 
Where the bee's deep music swells 
From the trembling foxglove bells — 
Come away ' 
