• little
  • A Summer Rain

    “Drip drip the trees for all the country round, And richness rare distills from every bough; The wind alone it is makes every sound, Shaking down crystals on the leaves below. For shame the sun will never show himself, Who could not with his beams e’er melt me so; My dripping locks—they would become an […]

  • little
  • honorable august

    “The bee is not afraid of me, I know the butterfly; The pretty people in the woods Receive me cordially. The brooks laugh louder when I come, The breezes madder play. Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? Wherefore, O summer’s day?” [.] We took a fishing trip to mirror lake, a favorite clime of sanctioned […]