Nature's putting on a show. A flurry of trees and shrubs blossom thoughout the village. Fragrant, pink, yellow and white buds have burst their seams.
"All Nature Sings" (and round me rings the music of the speres, from the hymn "My Father's World). Summer's on the way!
A ROCKPORT SUMMER
The long winter days are passing
And my heart is yearning to be
In the place of my greatest contentment,
Little Rockport by the sea.
I long for a Rockport summer,
Where the sun rises red in the bay,
And sailboats race as we stroll the beach
At the start of each beautiful day.
What makes this place so special,
Little Rockport by the sea,
The waves rolling in and the children at play
Or the shade of a spreading tree?
The gulls atop the Motif,
With lobster boats passing by,
Where artists are happily painting
The harbor, sea, and sky
Backyard clambakes and sweet foggy air
And the sound of a distant horn.
Granite walls and Twin Lights tall,
And bells on a Sunday morn
I long for a Rockport summer
And roses ‘round every door
With white picket fences and gates of blue
That wind down to the shore.
The Fourth of July is exciting
as marching bands come and go
And the fireworks sputter and crackle
Beneath the bonfire’s glow.
I long for a Rockport summer
With friendly folks passing by
And the east wind blows on a balmy day
While the sun rises high in the sky
Tides may rise and tides may fall,
But my heart is yearning to be
In the place of my greatest contentment,
Little Rockport by the sea.
©Dorothy Ramsey Stoffa, 1987
The long winter days are passing
And my heart is yearning to be
In the place of my greatest contentment,
Little Rockport by the sea.
I long for a Rockport summer,
Where the sun rises red in the bay,
And sailboats race as we stroll the beach
At the start of each beautiful day.
What makes this place so special,
Little Rockport by the sea,
The waves rolling in and the children at play
Or the shade of a spreading tree?
The gulls atop the Motif,
With lobster boats passing by,
Where artists are happily painting
The harbor, sea, and sky
Backyard clambakes and sweet foggy air
And the sound of a distant horn.
Granite walls and Twin Lights tall,
And bells on a Sunday morn
I long for a Rockport summer
And roses ‘round every door
With white picket fences and gates of blue
That wind down to the shore.
The Fourth of July is exciting
as marching bands come and go
And the fireworks sputter and crackle
Beneath the bonfire’s glow.
I long for a Rockport summer
With friendly folks passing by
And the east wind blows on a balmy day
While the sun rises high in the sky
Tides may rise and tides may fall,
But my heart is yearning to be
In the place of my greatest contentment,
Little Rockport by the sea.
©Dorothy Ramsey Stoffa, 1987
