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Summer
May 5th, 2008
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Yellow butterflies
I dug in the sand and I carefully made A big sand castle with my pail and spade. I felt like a queen in a golden crown Until the blue sea washed my sand castle down. So I dug again in that sandy shore Until I had a bigger castle and was queen once more! ~ Author Unknown In winter I get up at night, And dress by yellow candle light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day, I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown up people’s feet Still going past me in the street, And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day? ~ Robert Louis Stevenson If a summer night could talk, it would probably boast that it invented romance. ~ B. Williams ‘Tis moonlight, summer moonlight, All soft and still and fair; The solemn hour of midnight Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere. ~ Emily Jane Brontë |
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~ John Lubbock Sand in my swimsuit, Sand in my hair, When I go to the beach Sand gets everywhere! I wonder, I wonder, Oh, how can there be Sand left at the beach When there’s so much on me? ~ Helen Moore Ocean breeze blowing, feet kick and splash, Ocean waves breaking, on rocks with a crash. Boys finding seashells, girls sifting sand, Friends building castles, as high as they can. I stretch my arms out, far as they’ll reach Oh, my what fun, on this day at the beach. ~ Author Unknown Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~ Henry James The summer sun shone round me,
The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day. The tall trees stood in the sunlight
As still as still could be, But the deep grass sighed and rustled And bowed and beckoned me. The deep grass moved and whispered
And bowed and brushed my face. It whispered in the sunshine: “The winter comes apace.” ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
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