Seasons When the wondrous heat of Summer, has begun to fade away, And the first great shower of Summer rain, deigns to invade our day. The petrichor, such fragrant aroma, delights our sense of smell, And man, woman, and child all know, that everything is well. When leaves and flowers have gently drooped, and birds less sing. ’Tis then mens feelings, lightly turn to thoughts of love, not Spring.