The drinking lad lamented,
where to find a bride?
White flower in the lake,
that's the drunkard's bride.
    (Latvian folksong)

Shall I compare thee to a summers day
 Sonnet 18 
William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Butterflies blue
Butterflies still
Butterflies me and you.
We are here for a while
Then we are gone,
But not forgotten
For we will be changed into
something more beautiful
Like a butterfly, we do not really die
But shed only our outer shell.
Then we become more radiant
When in our glory
With Him we shall dwell
So my child, do not grieve
When I say good-bye
For to the children of God
Death has no sting
For we are transformed
Into new creatures
In garments of white
While singing His praises
We are filled with His Light

The birds were singing happily
Within the skies of blue,
All Nature seemed to wear a smile
With cares and worries few.

The Summer sunshine touched my heart
In warmth and joy complete,
Each tiny creature of the fields
Dashed by on running feet.

A gentle breeze then whispered by
To lend a magic cool,
While children played so merrily
Within the swimming pool.

The miracles of Summertime
Are with us everywhere,
The fragrance of the flowers in bloom
Did permeate the air.

So much of beauty in our world
God sends His love below,
To touch each heart with gentle peace,
In Summer's sun aglow.

~ By Garnett Ann Schultz ~

How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, in the broad and fiery street, in the narrow lane, how beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters upon the roofs, like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes, and struggles out, from the throat of the overflowing spout! across the window-pane, it pours and pours, and swift and wide, with a muddy tide, like a river down the gutter roars the rain, the welcome rain!