nshine, while all around him renewed nature bloomed strong,
luxuriant, and beautiful: it was summer, warm, lovely summer. Sweet
and pleasant was the fragrance wafted from the clover-field, where the
bees swarmed round the ruined tower, the bramble twined itself over
the old altar, which, washed by the rain, glittered in the sunshine;
and thither flew the queen bee with her swarm, and prepared wax and
honey. But Summer and his bosom-wife saw it with different eyes, to
them the altar-table was covered with the offerings of nature. The
evening sky shone like gold, no church dome could ever gleam so
brightly, and between the golden evening and the blushing morning
there was moonlight. It was indeed summer. And days and weeks
passed, the bright scythes of the reapers glittered in the
corn-fields, the branches of the apple-trees bent low, heavy with
the red and golden fruit. The hop, hanging in clusters, filled the air
with sweet fragrance, and beneath the hazel-bushes, where the nuts
hung in great bunches, rested a man and a woman--Summer and his
grave consort.

"See," she exclaimed, "what wealth, what blessings surround us.
Everything is home-like and good, and yet, I know not why, I long
for rest and peace; I can scarcely express what I feel. They are
already ploughing the fields again; more and more the people wish
for gain. See, the storks are flocking together, and following the
plough at a short distance. They are the birds from Egypt, who carried
us through the air. Do you remember how we came as children to this
land of the north; we brought with us flowers and bright sunshine, and
green to the forests, but the wind has been rough with them, and
they are now become dark and brown, like the trees of the south, but
they do not, like them, bear golden fruit."

"Do you wish to see golden fruit?" said the man, "then rejoice,"
and he lifted his arm. The leaves of the forest put on colors of red
and gold, and bright tints covered the woodlands. The rose-bushes
gleamed with scarlet hips, and the branches of the elder-trees hung
down with the weight of the full, dark berries. The wild chestnuts
fell ripe from their dark, green shells, and in the forests the
violets bloomed for the second time. But the queen of the year
became more and more silent and pale.

"It blows cold," she said, "and night brings the damp mist; I long
for the land of my childhood." Then she saw the storks fly away
every one, and she stretched out her