WHEN summer shone Its sweetest on An August day, "Here evermore," I said, "I'll stay; Not go away To another shore As fickle they!" December came: 'Twas not the same! I did not know Fidelity Would serve me so. Frost, hunger, snow; And now, ah me, Too late to go! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SLAVE TRADE: VIEW FROM THE MIDDLE PASSAGE by CLARENCE MAJOR NEW NEIGHBORHOOD by KAREN SWENSON DAISY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SONG OF THE RABBITS OUTSIDE THE TAVERN by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH THE FIELD MOUSE by WILLIAM SHARP |