L' été c'est fini ...
... and I feel thankful for such a lovely, lovely solitary summer!
Here a part from George Herbert's poem 'The Flower'
...And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: O my only light,
It cannot be
That I am he
On whom thy tempests fell all right.