The Summer Son

As I through moonlit wood did walk
I stumbled ‘cross an unworn path.
Somewhere beyond the fenced-in road
Some children did what Frost had done.
I peered out through the withered trees.
I eyed the path out for myself.
It seemed unsafe- not made with ease-
I had no wish to journey there.

I passed this path from day to day
And each time it was more the strange.
I watched the path from time to time,
And no one entered or came out.
But still the path remained all clear
I wondered how it had this feat-
No squirrel or hen or leaping hare
Ever looked, searched, or entered there.

One day in spring I sat upon
The fenced-in road, taking my rest.
I drank my water, ate my bread,
And watched the ways with wary eye.

What, lo! I cried when I did spy
A villain down the road from me.
Upon a horse as black as night
He trotted down the road at me.
The sunlight did not touch his face-
The summer air grew, ‘round him, cold.

He was a villain- Hark! He comes!
I searched in vain for place to hide.
The villain came upon me close
His will- to drag me far away.
I leaped the fence and then I dove
Into the path I’d feared so long.

I chose the less of two evils
At least, ‘twas my thought at the time.
I rushed! I ran down that old path
The villain was still far behind-
His great black horse could never fit!
It was too great for such a road.

Instead the villain dismounted
And pursued me upon his feet.
I ran and ran along that road,
Hoping I’d find no dead ends.
Not knowing which way that I strode,
I kept running away from him.

Presently, though, I saw a sight
Which made me fear for my dear life-
I saw the trees were growing thick
The path not worn- I’m sure I’ll trip
And fall upon this dirty ground
And then he’ll catch me, end the chase,
And drag me off against my will
To some ungodly horrid place!

I ran the harder, more and more,
Tears were streaming down my face.
I ran until my legs were sore
And kept running for my own sake.
I know not still how far I’d gone

When I turned and saw the villain,
Not more than an arm’s length ahead
Was I from him- I cursed the Fates!

What, Lo! I cried! To my surprise,
Before me I heard a response-
“Dear maiden, run to me at once!”
I saw the source of the rich voice-
A man so fair and yet so foul.

He was indeed a villain, too,
But he was different- he was True.
He was the source of summer’s light!
Upon his head rich golden hair,
Upon his brow a crown so fair,
His eyes were blue as bright as skies,
His hands were outstretched towards me.

I fled to him, the Saving Grace,
Who caught me in his virtuous arms,
Held me safe from winter’s zealot,
And fought him off with summer’s light!

When winter’s zealot’s head adorned
The gate above the city’s walls,
The spring came strong, but summer’s spent.

I walk again along the road,
Fenced in by man, but with ease left.
I once again approach the path
That I so long ago had feared.

My hands, they shake! My brow, it sweats!
How far the path goes, I know not!
Before I’d run‘t, but now I walk
So slowly, softly, now, I creep

Along the path I’d run before
So slowly, slowly, now, I go.
I seek the Summer Sun again,
I leave the path of winter’s run
To find myself the summer’s son.
The beauteous creature hiding there,
The crowned man past the wooded walk,
More worthy than the greatest king
To have a woman visit him-

SO now I walk, I creep, I sneak,
To find the son of summer here.
The one who saved me by his fight
From the villain’s ugly snare.
Anon I come upon the glade
The sacred floor the fight took place
Upon. I look around around,
I search for that, the fairest face
That any man on Earth has bore-

Beyond the eastern edge I catch
A glimpse of gold! My Summer Sun!
I run to him! I run! I run!
As I approach I hear the sound
Of footprints soft upon the ground,
Not mine or his, and so I turn.

Behind me I see, all in black,
A matron of titanic height!
And all around her, snow does fall!
The summer sun won’t touch her face!

I cry out, Help! My Lord! My love!
And stumble back to seek his aid-
I grasp out for the summer’s son
And find his hand- his flesh is cold!
I turn to see him. My dear love!
He is bound tightly to the tree!

The matron of the winter, there,
Has killed the Crowned Prince of Summer!

Go! I cry- Get out! Be gone!
I shoo away that wicked one
Whose son’s head is upon the gate.

Another matronly dame comes,
But this one fair and of the sun.
She enters in and sees her child,
The golden-crowned prince of Summer,
So woefully displayed to her.
She cries out Woe! Oh, shattered life!
She runs to him, her only child,
Hung there upon a tree to die
And dead before I could arrive.

I fall down to my knees and weep-
The sorrow of summer’s ending.
I fall into uneasy sleep
And dream of Summer’s only Son
Who, had I never to him run,
Would not have incurred Winter’s wrath
By killing off cold Winter’s son.

Summer grieves, still, by his side.
His body rots and fades away.
The winter wolves come in again
And tear the ropes and pull him down.

The snow now falls in deeper drifts
And Summer mourns her beauteous son
And I cry with her day and night.

The snow falls harder, Ice now forms.
Madam Winter wins this fight.