{"id":685,"date":"2013-06-30T17:15:14","date_gmt":"2013-07-01T00:15:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/?p=685"},"modified":"2022-01-28T10:18:18","modified_gmt":"2022-01-28T18:18:18","slug":"0630","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/06\/30\/0630\/","title":{"rendered":"0630"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone\" src=\"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/images\/062013\/0630.png\" \/><\/p>\n<p>0630<br \/>\nHe scorches he glows<\/p>\n<p><strong>Summer Sun<\/strong><br \/>\nBy Robert Louis Stevenson<\/p>\n<p>Great is the sun, and wide he goes<br \/>\nThrough empty heaven with repose;<br \/>\nAnd in the blue and glowing days<br \/>\nMore thick than rain he showers his rays.<\/p>\n<p>Though closer still the blinds we pull<br \/>\nTo keep the shady parlour cool,<br \/>\nYet he will find a chink or two<br \/>\nTo slip his golden fingers through.<\/p>\n<p>The dusty attic spider-clad<br \/>\nHe, through the keyhole, maketh glad;<br \/>\nAnd through the broken edge of tiles<br \/>\nInto the laddered hay-loft smiles.<\/p>\n<p>Meantime his golden face around<br \/>\nHe bares to all the garden ground,<br \/>\nAnd sheds a warm and glittering look<br \/>\nAmong the ivy&#8217;s inmost nook.<\/p>\n<p>Above the hills, along the blue,<br \/>\nRound the bright air with footing true,<br \/>\nTo please the child, to paint the rose,<br \/>\nThe gardener of the World, he goes.<\/p>\n<button id=\"listenButton1\" class=\"responsivevoice-button\" type=\"button\" value=\"Play\" title=\"ResponsiveVoice Tap to Start\/Stop Speech\"><span>&#128266; Listen to Poem<\/span><\/button>\n        <script>\n            listenButton1.onclick = function(){\n                if(responsiveVoice.isPlaying()){\n                    responsiveVoice.cancel();\n                }else{\n                    responsiveVoice.speak(\"0630 He scorches he glows Summer Sun By Robert Louis Stevenson Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through. The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles. Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy\\'s inmost nook. Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.\", \"UK English Male\");\n                }\n            };\n        <\/script>\n    \n\n<div class=\"twitter-share\"><a href=\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/intent\/tweet?via=stickpersonpoet\" class=\"twitter-share-button\">Tweet<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>0630 He scorches he glows Summer Sun By Robert Louis Stevenson Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/06\/30\/0630\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">0630<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[90,133,50],"class_list":["post-685","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-classic","tag-colors","tag-sun","tag-weather"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/685"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=685"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/685\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":686,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/685\/revisions\/686"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=685"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=685"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=685"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}