And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.
When summer is over, winter becomes sad too, because opposites often admire each other secretly!
I'm having a seriously hard time getting used to the fact that summer is over and I have to get out of bed every morning to go to school.
Always keep mint on your windowsill in August, to ensure that buzzing flies will stay outside, where they belong. Don't think the summer is over, even when roses droop and turn brown and the stars shift position in the sky. Never presume August is a safe or reliable time of the year.
All still when summer is over stand shocks in the field, nothing left to whisper, not even good-bye, to the wind. After summer was over we knew winter would come: we knew silence would wait, tall, patient calm.
Surely 't is better, when summer is over To die when all fair things are fading away.
The rains tumble down in the sky,
Young swallows have learned how to fly,
The leaves that were green are no longer so green,
And it looks like the summer is over.
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