 | The poetical works of Henry Alford |  |
LXXIII. SUMMER, WHEN THE PRIME IS REACHED, BUT THERE ARE TOKENS OF DECAY.
For Summer I would paint a married pairSitting in close embraces, while a band
Of children kneel before them hand in hand;
Healthful their cheeks, and from their mantling hair,
Well-knit and clear, their downward limbs are bare;
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In pride of love upon her full ripe breast;
And yet his brow is delved with lines of care,
And in her shining eye one truant tear
Stands, ready to be shed:—a quiet scene,
But not without perchance intruding fear
That never comes again what once hath been;
And recollection that our fondest toil
But weaves a texture for the world to soil.
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | |