 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
SAD SUMMER.
AH Summer, lady of the flowered lands,When shall thy lovely looks bring back to me,
—To me who strain into the grey sad sea
Of dreams unsatisfied and with stretched hands
Implore the stern sky and the changeless sands
For some faint sign of that which was to be
So perfect and so fair a life to see,—
The time of songs and season of flower-bands?
At least, for guerdon of full many a lay
In praise of thee and of thy youngling Spring,
What time my lips were yet attuned to sing,
Let not thy roses redden in my way
Too flauntingly nor all thy golden day
Insult my silence with too glad a ring.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |