The Return Of Summer
We stood in late, late grasses lost,
by Kate Wiley
Bare feet in midst of soft white sand
Near trees so old that even they
Could not recall when they began.
Still were we children, wistful, lone
In the sad autumn afternoon
Remembering, repining for
The days that disappeared too soon.
In fresh sweet dews of early dawn
We played the hours out gladly, so
When days of August spent and hot
Retired we sadly watched them go.
Then we were wise like children are.
When old trees shadow-voices called
We knew before they said our names
Our summer's interval had palled.
But soon remembering, rejoiced
For though the winter lingers long
The old trees called, 'Don't grieve, ' they said,
'Return of summer stirs e'erlong.'