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1
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Leaves of the summer, lovely summer's pride,
Sweet is the shade below your silent tree,
(William Barnes (1801-1886), British poet. Leaves (l. 1-2). . .
Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.)
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William Barnes
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2
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
(William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day (l. 1-14). . .
The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.)
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William Shakespeare
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3
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No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,
As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape,
(John Donne (1572-1631), British poet. The Autumnal. . .
The Complete English Poems [John Donne]. A. J. Smith, ed. (1971) Penguin Books.)
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John Donne
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4
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On the idle hill of summer,
Sleepy with the flow of streams,
(A.E. (Alfred Edward) Housman (1859-1936), British poet. On the idle hill of summer (A Shropshire Lad, XVIII). . .
The Collected Poems of A. E. Housman. (1965) Henry Holt.)
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A.E. (Alfred Edward) Housman
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5
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Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare
And left the flushed print in a poppy there.
(Francis Thompson (1859-1907), British poet. The Poppy, Poems (1913).)
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Francis Thompson
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6
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
(William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Sonnet 18, "Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?" (1609).)
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William Shakespeare
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7
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O, white pear,
your flower-tufts
thick on the branch
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.
(Hilda Doolittle (1886-1961), U.S. poet. Pear Tree (l. 12-16). . .
New Oxford Book of American Verse, The. Richard Ellmann, ed. (1976) Oxford University Press CP-Dool.)
More quotations from:
Hilda Doolittle
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8
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O, white pear,
your flower-tufts
thick on the branch
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.
(Hilda Doolittle (1886-1961), U.S. poet. Pear Tree (l. 12-16). . .
New Oxford Book of American Verse, The. Richard Ellmann, ed. (1976) Oxford University Press CP-Dool.)
More quotations from:
Hilda Doolittle
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