Summer in the Meadow

The English sun shines fiercely bright, Across the rolling hills of green. Wild mustard blooms in blinding light, The grandest summer ever seen. Towering clouds of silver-white, Soar high into the cobalt sky. All nature sings with pure delight, While in this quiet grass I lie. Oh, summer whispers in the breeze, Life bursts forth from every tree. Yet in the shadow of these trees, My heart is drowned in memory. The world is singing, ripe and clear, My darling, wish that you were here. I wear the linen dress you loved, Unbuttoned slightly at the throat. The warm air strokes my skin, beloved, Like music from a distant note. My body aches with youth and grace, In this golden, prime of years. Yet no one comes to touch my face, And dry these quietly falling tears. Oh, summer whispers in the breeze, Life bursts forth from every tree. Yet in the shadow of these trees, My heart is drowned in memory. The world is singing, ripe and clear, My darling, wish that you were here. Larks ascend into the light, The meadow hums with wild desire. A lonely widow in the light, Still burning with a quiet fire. You left too soon, you left me whole, With summer racing through my soul. The shadows lengthen on the grass, As midsummer begins to pass. My love, I feel the warm wind blow... And softly, gently, let you go.