End of June Stroll and its findings
‘The very spirit of summer breathes to-day, Here where I sun me in a dreamy mood, And laps the sultry leas, and seems to brood Tenderly o’er those hazed hills far away. The air is fragrant with the new-mown hay, And drowsed with hum of myriad flies pursued By twittering martins. All yon hillside wood Is drowned in sunshine till its green looks grey. No scrap of cloud is in the still blue sky,…
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