To Summer Comments
O thou who passest thro' our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched'st here thy goldent tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
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What shall I say of this poem? A very good poem giving encomiums to those who work in the fields in the tolling summer. What more can we expect from a poet like Blake?
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7/26/2025 11:51:45 AM # 1.0.0
I enjoyed this poem far more than many of the poems I have read recently. I wish I could believe it is as straight-forward as it seems but I bet he's having a bit of fun with fauns and leprechauns and nymphs in the background somewhere.