10.

The sun a splintered splendor was In sober trees that broke and blurred, That afternoon we went together In droning hum and whirling buzz, Where hard the dinning locust whirred, Through fields of golden-rod a-feather.

So sweet it was to look and lean To your young face and feel the light Of eyes that fondled mine unsaddened! The laugh that left lips more serene; The words that blossomed like the white Life-everlasting there and gladdened.

Maturing Summer, you were fraught With wiser beauties then than now Parades rich Autumn's red November; This stuns: there dreams no subtle thought As then on hinting bush and bough— But now I am alone, remember.