| Bending above the spicy woods which blaze, Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sun Immeasurably far; the waters run Too slow, so freighted are the river-ways With gold of elms and birches from the maze Of forests. Chestnuts, clicking one by one, Escape from satin burs; her fringes done, The gentian spreads them out in sunny days, And, like late revelers at dawn, the chance Of one sweet, mad, last hour, all things assail, And conquering, flush and spin; while, to enhance The spell, by sunset door, wrapped in a veil Of red and purple mists, the summer, pale, Steals back alone for one more song and dance. This poem is in the public domain. |
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