The sun a splintered splendor was
In sober trees that broke and blurred,
That afternoon we went together
In droning hum and whirling buzz,
Where hard the dinning locust whirred,
Through fields of golden-rod a-feather.
So sweet it was to look and lean
To your young face and feel the light
Of eyes that fondled mine unsaddened!
The laugh that left lips more serene;
The words that blossomed like the white
Life-everlasting there and gladdened.
Maturing Summer, you were fraught
With wiser beauties then than now
Parades rich Autumn's red November;
This stuns: there dreams no subtle thought
As then on hinting bush and bough —
But now I am alone, remember.