Summer
Summer looked for long am I: Much shall change or e'er I die. Prithee take it not amiss Though I weary thee with bliss.
William Morris
Summer looked for long am I: Much shall change or e'er I die. Prithee take it not amiss Though I weary thee with bliss.
In this tiny, intimate poem, summer is a person speaking directly to us. The voice says, “I am the season everyone has been yearning for; a lot will change before I disappear.” Then, with a gentle, almost teasing tone, it asks not to be resented for tiring us out with sheer bliss.
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