Soon will the high midsummer pomp come on,

Soon will the musk carnations break and swell,

Soon shall we have gold-dusted snapdragon,

Sweet-william with its homely cottage smell,

And stocks in fragrant blow;

Roses that down that alleys shine afar,

And open jasmine in muffled lattices

And groups under the dreaming garden trees

And the pale moon and the white dreaming star.

By Shakespeare