In The Lane

When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'-clock,
And summer is near its close
It's Oh, for the gate and the locust lane.

And dusk and dew and home again!
When the katydid sings and the cricket cries,
And ghosts of the mists ascend,
And the evening-star is a lamp i' the skies,
And summer is near its end.

It's Oh, for the fence and the leafy lane,
And the twilight peace and the tryst again!
When the owlet hoots in the dogwood-tree,
That leans to the rippling Run,
And the wind is a wildwood melody

And summer is almost done
It's Oh, for the bridge and the bramble lane,
And the fragrant hush and her hands again!
When fields smell moist with the dewy hay,
And woods are cool and wan,

And a path for dreams is the Milky-way,
And summer' is nearly gone
It's Oh, for the rock and the woodland lane
And the silence and stars and her lips again!
When the weight of the apples breaks down the boughs,

And musk-melons split with sweet,
And the moon is a-bloom in the Heaven's house,
And summer has spent its heat
It's Oh, for the lane, the trysting lane,
And the deep-mooned night and her love again!