Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Summer Comes

The Summer Comes!
She comes! she comes! with her flashing eyes,
  And her cheek of passion's hue,
'Mid a train of aërial symphonies,
  In a garment of cloudless blue.
She comes, and her spell is on earth and skies,
  Over land and over sea,
  In her warm maturity,
She comes! the summer comes!