[47]

[47]

ONE DAY IN SUMMER

This singing Summertime has never done

With afternoons all gold and dust and fire,

And windy trees blown silver in the sun,

The lights of earth, her musics and desire;—

But day by day, and hour by lighted hour,

Something beyond the summer earth and sky,

Burns through this passion of a world in flower,—

Some ghostly sense of lovers thronging by.

And I have thought, upon this windy hill,

Where bends and sways the long, dream-troubled grass,

That I may know the heart-beats, tender still,

Of gone, forgotten lovers where they pass,—

Their love, too long for one brief life to hold,

Beating and burning through this dust and gold.

[48]

[48]

VINES

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