A Flight of Fancies :: :: University of Virginia Library

He runs across the plain
Of blueness without end,
His pockets full of gold
To give to every friend.
In August year by year
His rapid servant comes
To mark with pink and red
The shoulders of the plums;
To make the apple stare
As fixedly as once
When Eve forgot a rule,
And Adam was a dunce;
To freckle Baby's soft
And silky inch of nose,
And bronze in half a day
A million seaside toes.

But though, as all admit,
He's capable of more
Than fifty Aunts could tell
From two o'clock till four,
However much he thinks,
However hard he tries,

156

However long he plans,
The Sun can never rise.

When August disappears,
September, brown and blithe,
Is ready for the Sun
To flash along the scythe;
To kiss from green to black
The berries soon to stain
The pinafores and thumbs
Of madcaps in the lane;
To heat upon his bush
The thorn-defended sloe,
And dye his glossy face
As dark as indigo;
To teach the hazel-nut
The tightness of a shell
That holds him while he learns
The way he ought to swell.

But though, as all admit,
He's capable of more
Than Poets could explain
From two o'clock till four,
However long he skulks
Behind a cloud, to fret,
And bite his nails, and frown,
The Sun can never set.