The breeze is so pleasant, the sun is so bright—
O, Summer is sweet, and its sky is so blue!
I glory in thinking there's nothing to do.
I moon and I ponder from morn until night,
When drifting about in my bass-wood canoe!
My face and my hands are of tropical hue.
In spotless white flannel my limbs are bedight.
O, Summer is sweet, and its sky is so blue!
But O, it is pleasant to dream the day through,
Half-hidden by rushes, and well out of sight,