. Debita Flacco. Echoes of Ode and Epode . here,Gay Butterflies, and countless formsOf happy insect-life in swarms,While answering song-birds far and nearWith rival notes complete the my soul tumultuous throngThe mingled hues and scents and song ;I love the Birds, I love the Bees,The merry flowers, the sober trees ;The cordial summer glows withinTill Nature seems ten times akin ;A new pulse beats along my blood,A sense of general brotherhood,And bird, and beast, and flower, and flyAnd man, seem but one Summer one high festivalOur common Mother holds for all! I change my
. Debita Flacco. Echoes of Ode and Epode . here,Gay Butterflies, and countless formsOf happy insect-life in swarms,While answering song-birds far and nearWith rival notes complete the my soul tumultuous throngThe mingled hues and scents and song ;I love the Birds, I love the Bees,The merry flowers, the sober trees ;The cordial summer glows withinTill Nature seems ten times akin ;A new pulse beats along my blood,A sense of general brotherhood,And bird, and beast, and flower, and flyAnd man, seem but one Summer one high festivalOur common Mother holds for all! I change my dream ; now self-impressedAmong the hands at hay-harvestI ted the swathes with might and main,Or help to pile the scented wain ;Then, tired with toil unwonted, passAn hour supine upon the grass,Watching the river as it flows,Until my eyelids gently close. 102 Claudensque tcxtis cratibus laetmn pecus Distcnta siccet ubera,Et horna dulci vina promcns dolio Dapes inemptas apparct:Non me Lucrina juverint concliylia Magisve rhombus aut scari,. Si cjuos Eois intonata fluctibus Hicms ad hoc verlat mare ;Non Afra avis desccndat in ventrcm mciim, Non attagen lonicusJucundior, quam lecta do pinguissimis Oliva ramis arborum I03 Anon with sudden impulse braced I belt my knives about my waist, And shouldering axe and saw, set out To have a summer-pruning bout; Or stroll off to the lower mead To pat my Guernseys as they feed ; And as I watch each careful beast Intent upon her evening feast, Rejecting here, selecting there. Munch with discriminating y7di/r, Mid herbs whose differences to her Are as the dishes we prefer, I suddenly reflect—Great Heaven, My watch says that tis half-past seven ! I must not let the spring soup wait One moment from the stroke of eight; Then theres the turbot F. brought down. At least I trust he did, from town ; And new potatoes, pretty toy ! And Lamb and Peas, and that rare joy, That Oxymel, that thing apart. That garden Comet, Green Peach Tart ! So home I trud
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Keywords: ., bookauthorhorace, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookiddebitafl
