| [00:00.00] |
Lord, it is time. The summer was so great. |
| [00:24.84] |
Impose upon the sundials now your shadows |
| [00:29.16] |
and round the meadows let the winds rotate. |
| [00:37.05] |
Command the last fruits to incarnadine; |
| [00:41.58] |
vouchsafe, to urge them on into completeness, |
| [00:45.57] |
yet two more south-like days; and that last sweetness, |
| [00:50.37] |
inveigle it into the heavy vine. |
| [01:13.29] |
He'll not build now, who has no house awaiting. |
| [01:18.84] |
Who's now alone, for long will so remain: |
| [01:22.62] |
sit late, read, write long letters, and again |
| [01:29.76] |
return to restlessly perambulating |
| [01:33.63] |
the avenues of parks when leaves downrain. |
