We would hail thee, joyous summer,
We would welcome thee to-day,
With thy skies so blue and cloudless
And thy song-birds, glad and gay.
Oh, the blossoms hear thee calling,
Hear thy voice that ne’er deceives,
And they waken from their slumbers
Far beneath the withered leaves.
Little brooks with merry laughter,
Run to greet their lovely guest;