When the glowing days grow long ’Mid the blossom, sweet my fare, Sweet the burden of my song Floating on the summer air, When the garden is ablaze, And all nature wakes to praise Glories of the dreaming days Sipping, singing, I am there. Now by honeysuckle bloom, Now by pentstemon I cling; Now the golden glow of broom Lures me to the banqueting. In full many a scented bower Here I bend to kiss the flower, And, thro’ many a sunlit hour, Sing and sip, and sip and sing. Winter comes, and I am gone, Seeking kindlier fields afar; For where burning colours shone Frost and desolation are. But, when lengthening days relearn Olden lures, shall I return And again when colours burn Trill a sweet, melodious bar.