University of Virginia Library

A LAMENT FOR THE SUMMER.

Oh, we mourn thee, lovely Summer,
As thou liest on thy bier,—
As we see thy blossoms faded,
And thy leaflets pale and sear.
All thy long warm days so peaceful,
With their golden sunsets crowned,
When thy roses blushed in blooming,
Spreading perfume wide around.
All thy tranquil, happy evenings,
When thy moon rose proud and cold,
Like a queen, in robes of silver,
Midst the twinkling stars of gold.
When she rose and flung a garment
O'er the earth, of ermine fair,
Whitest lights and blackest shadows,
In the Summer night's blue air.
When the little, gleaming starlets
In the fields of heaven God sets,
Were like dew-drops, brightly sparkling
On a bed of violets.
Now, O fair and lovely Summer,
Thou art lying in thy tomb;
Nought can come save gaudy Autumn,
That must die in Winter's gloom.
Thou art gone with all thy flowers,
Thou hast faded in the Past;
Far too lovely here to linger,
Far too beautiful to last.
Yet thou, too, had'st days of sadness,
Sighing winds and dropping rain;
Why did'st mourn, gay-seeming Summer?
What could give thee cause for pain?
None on earth can ever know it,
And thy secret none can tell,—
Save, perhaps, the sobbing ocean,
And the birds that sing farewell.