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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536927" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536927" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O thou who passest thro' our valleys in<br>Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat<br>That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,<br>Oft pitched'st here thy goldent tent, and oft<br>Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld<br>With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536927" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard<br>Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car<br>Rode o'er the deep of heaven; beside our springs<br>Sit down, and in our mossy valleys, on<br>Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy<br>Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:<br>Our valleys love the Summer in his pride.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536927" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Our bards are fam'd who strike the silver wire:<br>Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:<br>Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:<br>We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,<br>Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,<br>Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Blake">William Blake</a></strong></div>