(Summer 
INTER is cold-hearted ; 
• Spring is yea and nay; 
Autumn is 
is a weathercock, 
Blown every way: 
Summer days for me, 
When every leaf is on the tree. 
When Robin’s not a beggar, 
And Jenny Wren’s a bride, 
And larks hang singing, singing, singing, 
Over the wheat fields wide, 
And anchored lilies ride, 
And the pendulum spider 
. Swings from side to side. 
Before green apples blush, 
Before green nuts embrown, 
Why, one day in the country 
Is worth a month in town — 
Is worth a day and a year 
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion 
That days drone everywhere. 
Christina. Rassetti. 
