Summer time is finally here
School is out and fishing time near.
Barefooted boys and fishing poles,
Down to the creek, to the ole swimming hole.
Running through the woods, along the river bank,
That old boat they used went and sank.
A can of worms, a hook and line,
Looking for a fishing pole, if they can find
Two good friends who share their fun,
They run and jump and chase the sun.
Running here, and running there.
Not any worries, not a care
But too soon, it must all end
For these two that were good friends.
Summer comes and summer moves on.
A few summers in your life, then you're grown.
But there are days we can recall When we were friends, we had it all.
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Comments about this poem (Summer by Doug Beggs )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Raymond J Wright
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Mother to Son, Langston Hughes
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
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