It can't be "Summer"!
That — got through!
It's early — yet — for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White — to cross —
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge —
The Dead shall go in White —
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of...
-
-
It will be Summer — eventually.
Ladies — with parasols —
Sauntering Gentlemen — with Canes —
And little Girls — with Dolls —
Will tint the pallid landscape —
As 'twere a bright Bouquet —
Tho' drifted deep, in Parian —
The Village lies — today —
The Lilacs — bending... -
Ourselves were wed one summer — dear —
Your Vision — was in June —
And when Your little Lifetime failed,
I wearied — too — of mine —
And overtaken in the Dark —
Where You had put me down —
By Some one carrying a Light —
I — too — received the Sign.
'Tis true — Our... -
So much Summer
Me for showing
Illegitimate —
Would a Smile's minute bestowing
Too exorbitant
To the Lady
With the Guinea
Look — if She should know
Crumb of Mine
A Robin's Larder
Would suffice to stow — -
Summer begins to have the look
Peruser of enchanting Book
Reluctantly but sure perceives
A gain upon the backward leaves —
Autumn begins to be inferred
By millinery of the cloud
Or deeper color in the shawl
That wraps the everlasting hill.
The eye begins its avarice... -
Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whipporwill
And Oriole — are done!
For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me —
Anemone —
Thy flower — forevermore! -
Summer has two Beginnings —
Beginning once in June —
Beginning in October
Affectingly again —
Without, perhaps, the Riot
But graphicker for Grace —
As finer is a going
Than a remaining Face —
Departing then — forever —
Forever — until May —
... -
The city is dreary and dusty and lone,
The Smiths and the Joneses and Jenkinses gone;
The doors are all barred, and the shutters all down,
And nobody left in this desolate town---
Save the sweeper who wearily loiters and lags,
The ashman, and he who cries "... -
Summer is shorter than any one —
Life is shorter than Summer —
Seventy Years is spent as quick
As an only Dollar —
Sorrow — now — is polite — and stays —
See how well we spurn him —
Equally to abhor Delight —
Equally retain him — -
Summer laid her simple Hat
On its boundless Shelf —
Unobserved — a Ribbon slipt,
Snatch it for yourself.
Summer laid her supple Glove
In its sylvan Drawer —
Wheresoe'er, or was she —
The demand of Awe?