Summer In July

The things once near and dear to me now seems so far away
Yet in my flights of fancy i can scent the new mown hay
Where the dark winged migrant swallows are chirping as they fly
Above the sunlit meadows of Summer in July

The boys and girls i went to school with in the Town by the Finnow
Perhaps of years now showing the wear to time we all must bow
Some of them in distant cities live as grandparents of today
Time does not wait for anyone as the wise one did say

The Seasons come and go too fast and old age comes to us too soon
Yet in my visualizing i can hear the ringing of the angelus bell at noon
Floating in the freshening breezes across the clear blue sky
Above the evergreen old fields of Summer in July.

Time does not wait for anyone why should it wait for me
All i have left are the memories of the what used to be
Like the song of the migratory cuckoo of Summer days gone by
And the harsh croaks of the grey heron as if his throat were dry

The years have me walking slower and leave me looking old and gray
And my memory not what it once was suffer of time's decay
Yet in my flights of fancy i can hear the corncrake cry
When darkness cloaks the meadows of Summer in July.