Down The Lanes of August




Down the lanes of August—and the bees upon the wing,
All the world’s in color now, and all the song birds sing;
Never reds will redder be, more golden be the gold,
Down the lanes of August, and the summer getting old.
Mother Nature’s brushes now with paints are dripping wet,
Gorgeous is her canvas with the tints we can’t forget;
Here’s a yellow wheat field—purple asters there,
Riotous the colors that she’s splashing everywhere.
Red the cheeks of apples and pink the peaches’ bloom,
Redolent the breezes with the sweetness of perfume;
Everything is beauty crowned by skies of clearest blue,
Mother Earth is at her best once more for me and you.
Down the lanes of August with her blossoms at our feet,
Rich with gold and scarlet, dripping wet with honey sweet.
Rich or poor, no matter, here are splendors spread
Down the lanes of August, for all who wish to tread.


By Edgar Albert Guest








Artist Edward J. Detmold’
Text and image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook on Facebook

One thought on “Down The Lanes of August

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s