’Tis sweet to sing vacation days
Because, you see, they’re ended;
From mountain inns and summer bays
‘Most everyone has wended
Back to the walks where duty lies
And daily tasks are calling.
Ere long will clouds obscure the skies
And winter rains be falling.
In retrospect, methinks, we drain
A cup of sweetest pleasure
And wonder if we’ll e’er again
Have granted us a measure
Of summer joys so brimming full
Of mirthfulness and laughter,
With scarce a thought of labors dull
And troubles to come after.
We don’t recall the insect swarm
That started us to swearing,
The sultry days and nights so warm
We almost were despairing;
The stuffy room, the tiresome bed,
The food we vowed was “rotten”—
Though but a week or two has sped,
These ills are all forgotten.