Ix

He compares the present day with a past one:

The sun a splintered splendor was In trees, whose waving branches blurred Its disc, that day we went together, ’Mid wild-bee hum and whirring buzz Of locusts, through the fields that purred With summer in the perfect weather.

So sweet it was to look, and lean To her young face and feel the light Of eyes that met my own unsaddened! Her laugh that left lips more serene; Her speech that blossomed like the white Life-everlasting there and gladdened.

Maturing summer, you were fraught With more of beauty then than now Parades the pageant of September: Where What-is-now contrasts in thought With What-was-once, that bloom and bough Can only help me to remember.