The summer sky, the summer sea.

It is here that I would fain be free and fly

Over this sea of grass to see what it holds;

To take my eyes from the earth and let them roam;

And breathe this air that breathes no human breath.

I have no wish to live on land and sleep among the sheep,

For here are my true desires; I am content to float

On the breast of the ocean where the waves run high.

If I were to choose a place to die, it must be here:

Where all things cease their motion in midair;

There must I rest with my soul at peace.

Here there is no fear of change.

No, no, these words are not for you!

They are for another who lives far away,

Who walks through life without ever dreaming of death.

She will never know how long she has been alive;

Or of the wonders she has seen or felt;

That which lies above her is something other than death.

These are the thoughts of the young girl who once lived upon the land,

Who was so full of life and hope that she could not find peace.

She wandered through the world and learned much by way of pain and sorrow.

But now she is dead, and her spirit has flown away.

Her name was Mary, and she loved the sea.

She loved the sun and the wind and the sound of the waves.

She loved the smell of the flowers and the taste of the fruit.

She loved walking barefoot on the shore of the sea;

Sitting with her legs stretched out into the water as though it were grass;

Breathing in the salt breeze that blew across the waves.

And then she was gone and all that remained was the memory of her.

How much more vivid, how complete, did that last moment seem?

How much more beautiful?

And yet, when the time came, that memory faded as swiftly as a dream

What was once so beautiful was now only a pale imitation.

What had once brought such pleasure had become but a mockery.

She lay in a coffin in a churchyard in her village.

She had died alone, and in silence.

All around her stood the people who had known her best.

Some wept openly, others kept their heads bowed.

Some looked away, some looked at the ground.

There was no sound except for the sobbing of those who loved her most.

Her parents knelt next to her, tears streaming down their faces.

Her uncle sat at one side of the church, his face red.

Two friends stood close by, crying softly.

Three friends stood together, a circle made up of their grief.

In the middle, two brothers held each other's hand

An elderly man stood apart, staring solemnly into space

Another friend stood near him, weeping silently.

Four men and four women knelt at the grave, praying fervently.

A group of young girls stood off to the side.

A large group stood behind them, looking down.

The funeral service continued, and they watched silently,

Listening to the distant sounds of the sea and the wind.

The mourners walked back through the garden toward home.

They walked slowly, and many spoke softly.

Many paused and cried again.

They talked of the beautiful memories they had shared

Of the days spent together on the beach

Of the laughter and the stories

Of the moments they had spent together.

One man stopped before a tall oak tree

He raised his head and listened to the branches rustling in the wind.

The summer sky, the summer sea,

The summer air is all one.

The sun is a blazing ball of fire,

The ocean is a raging stormy sea.

In summer's season, when all the trees grow.

Their leaves are red and green.

The earth is made of living things,

The air is full of birdsong,

And every tree is alive!

With its limbs, it can dance,

Like a flower blooming in spring!

When the day is hot as this,

There will be many more nights

Where it feels as if one's head could burst.

So let's sit down under that shade,

Let us eat from the food of the trees.

Let us enjoy their company,

As they sing songs in our minds.

If we feel good enough to sleep,

The world will come to an end!

So we will take off our shoes,

Take out our pockets,

Eat all we want,

And then go back inside,

To rest on beds of soft grass.

Our dreams will be sweet like honey;

We may wake up with smiles upon our face!

But let us remember that this is only summer;

This beautiful dream may come to an end!

When it's dark as this,

We may not be able to see.

That would be such a shame!

Let's go find someone who looks like us!

And we'll make them happy

As they smile and laugh at us!

I know you won't believe me,

But I swear to you

It will happen just like this!

So we will take the time

We need before we leave.

While we look around for people

Who don't think like us;

We shall be careful to hide,

So the people who do not understand

Don't tell others what we are thinking.

For now you must trust me,

My friends, because I am telling the truth!

Now listen closely, because you will learn

Something strange, very new to you!

Do not speak your thoughts out loud

For you will be overheard by others

They might say, "What's wrong with you?"

Why should that bother anyone?

Everyone talks, why shouldn't we too?

We can speak without fear,

Because no one is looking at us.

We don't have to talk in hushed voices

Or try to control ourselves

Because we will not be caught.

We can walk through the village

Without attracting notice;

We can watch everyone

With eyes that are wide open.

No one cares what we do, so long

We stay away from them.

Yes, we will be here

Until tomorrow,

Till next year,

Until we become old.

The summer sky, the summer sea,

The summer sun, the winter wind,

They all go round.

In my dreams, I dream of summer skies,

And winter seas of snow, I dream the summer winds do blow;

With me, I love to go out alone at summer's hour,

In spring and autumn days, I dream that I am free.

I live but for one thing, and this is life itself

And this is heaven to me;

For what else can a poor man do in a land of gold?

If he had money, why would he not make his own way?

If he had riches, he would never want for food;

He who has both these will be contented

In life as well as death.

When the summer clouds come, and all the air does sigh,

And they say, "We are going home again, we are going home,"

It seems like a sad thing to hear,

It sounds so lonely and forlorn.

If I had such treasures as the world could give,

Then I would make them mine;

But alas, I have nothing that is mine;

Therefore it seems strange and desolate;

To be happy without any one to grieve for,

That is so hard to understand.

My soul is full of joy when I see the leaves fall from the trees;

And though the summer storms do rage and rain descend upon the earth,

Though the bitter cold comes biting cold, then my heart is glad,

I live but for one thing; and this is life itself.

If you love me, then take heed of my words,

Take heed of my warning looks;

Be kind to me, for I am a poor man,

You shall be rich, and you shall reign forevermore.

The summer sky, the summer sea

It is here that I would fain be free

The summer air is full of dreams

And all we have to do to be a dreamer

Is to walk on the water

And take some of those strange sounds for dreams

And see them as they may not be seen by men

But only as it seems like they can only be seen

If we go where no man has gone before

And swim among the fishes as if we were fish too

In the summer sun

And see the summer moonlight

And hear a nightingale in a distance.

When we wake up the day will still look the same,

and there will still be stars overhead

As if this had not been one beautiful dream;

but when we close our eyes

I am left wondering whether my dreams

Were more than a mere figment of a dreamer's mind

Of an imaginative imagination:

Or if I really am asleep or dreaming

Because what was so much more than this,

is the light in which these things are seen

In the dreams of other people.

The summer sky, the summer sea.

The green hills, and woods of old.

And here again, where I was born,

The wind blows fresh over me again.

This is my home, where I was bred;

No other land like this hath made.

It will be long till these are gone.

In winter's cold time I have felt;

Then have I come away at last.

And now the world grows cold again,

and all the summer is past;

Yet still it seems that here I live

And never more should roam.

For though the summer is don,

yet yet my heart doth feel

That some bright future shall come on,

Some bright sunbeams from the west.

I love not winter's cold or heat,

But always do I see

A glorious summer day begin;

My home shall never die,

But shall grow old, and grey,

And lie in quiet ground.

And if the winds blow not so,

I'll sing a song of summer days,

Where sunnier summers yet may be;

There, where I was born, there I'll lay.

I know what Summer means to men,

The sunshine's beams I bear in store;

To me he gives no change, but brings

The fairest flowers of spring.

I'll wear for him my greenest breeches,

My lightest shirt of sil,

His greenest hat and shoes of green,

His greenest coat of lawn;

And I'll look forward every hour

To when he cometh near.

Though summer comes and passes by,

Still the same fair Summer lives;

And when I ride, I'll hold his reins,

So gently stroking them that they seem

He rides by me alone.

If ever he should fall into doubt

Of what is in my heart and hand,

Let him not fear, for he shall hear

My sweetest voice, and know

What Summer's worth hath been.

I'd rather spend a year upon an island,

Where Summer reigns forever free,

Than tread upon a London town;

Than go out in a hackney coach,

And sit beneath a tree

With people that were strangers then.

For though the summer be but dead.

What Summer's gentle mind.

And when the Winter comes again

With icy air and rain,

Though I sit out under the tree,

He shall stand by me as in youth.

When all things fade before us,

He is still to be seen

Shining like an angel through the snow,

And when the Autumn comes again.

For though summer now is passed away,

I still shall think upon it

And love it evermore.

With Summer'er and summer's air,

Summer I must part and go,

As the great ocean must its tide.

When springtime's roses and violets flow,

And the birds are singing their lays,

And all the world is green once more,

He shall be there by me again.

For though summer be dead.

The Summer of our youth we owe

To Summer's gentle soul and breath.

The Summer shall return with summer's end.

But if he fail in coming back

From where he went to be;

And if he lose his earthly way,

And fall away from earth to heaven;

I trust that still he shall abide,

And be at peace and happy here.

For though summer be dead.

The summer's memory holds fast.

The Summer still is true, and dear.

If Springtime's roses and violets flow

And all the world is green once more,

The Summer shall bring new years of rest,

New hopes, new dreams, new joys.

For while the Summer sleeps.

Summer's heart is full of love and light.

Its wings are spread, its golden head.

On every morning it is flown

Over the hill's steep side, up and down;

Through bowers of hawthorn, through thickets

Of thorn and box.

It sees, above, all Nature' green.

Within its shining sphere

All the beautiful wonders shine;

There, where the Summer's wings do beat.

The Summer of our youth we owe

To Summer's gentlest soul and breath.