The long, dull days of summer, smoothly rolling by, The stillness and the heat, the blue of the sky. The air is thick with fragrance, and all the world is still, And every leaf and flower blooms round the meadow hill.

The softest light comes spilling from the endless hum of bees, And many a tiny creature feasts gaily under trees. The grass is brown and crisping, and the hot winds stir the fields, But still, the quiet beauty of summer gently yields.

• Willa Cather