In summer, the song sings itself. – William Carlos Williams
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Summer
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[W]oods are filled with the music of birds, and all nature is laughing under the glorious influence of Summer. – Charles Lanman, “The Dying Year,” 1840
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days — three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. – John Keats
I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips. – Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit