In Summer

There were the black pine trees, And the sullen hills Frowning; there were trills Of birds, and the sweet hot sun, And little rills Of water, everyone Singing and prattling; there were bees Honey-laden, tuneful, a song Far-off, and a timid air That sighed and kissed my hair, My hair that the hot sun loves. The day was very fair, There was wooing of doves, And the shadows were not yet long. And I lay on the soft green grass, And the smell of the earth was sweet, And I dipped my feet In the little stream; And was cool as a flower is cool in the heat, And the day lay still in a dream, And the hours forgot to pass. And you came, my love, so stealthily That I saw you not Till I felt that your arms were hot Round my neck, and my lips were wet With your lips, I had forgot How sweet you were. And lo! the sun has set, And the pale moon came up silently. Thuringewald, 1892