Sylvia Plath

Song For A Summer's Day

Through fen and farmland walking With my own country love I saw slow flocked cows move White hulks on their day's cruising; Sweet grass sprang for their grazing. The air was bright for looking: Most far in blue, aloft, Clouds steered a burnished drift; Larks' nip and tuck arising Came in for my love's praising. Sheen of the noonsun striking Took my heart as if It were a green-tipped leaf Kindled by my love's pleasing Into an ardent blazing. And so, together, talking, Through Sunday's honey-air We walked (and still walk there--- Out of the sun's bruising) Till the night mists came rising.

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