Lord: it is time. The summer was so grand. Upon sundials now Thy shadow lay, Set free Thy winds and send them over the land. Command to ripen those last fruits of Thine; And give them two more southern days of grace To reach their perfect fullness, and then chase The final sweetness into heavy wine. Who now is homeless, never will build a home. Who now is lonely, long alone will stay, Will watch and read and write long letters gray, And in the long lanes to and fro will roam All restless, as the drifting fall-leaves stray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO SYSTEM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 31 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |