Summer

Now is the summer of my soul.
The sun is slowly setting
In a sky of deep russet purple;
The birds of spring are flying.
Never to be seen again.

No longer does the daffodil
Or the springtime pelting rain
tickles the nose of the girl,
As she dances on the golden lawn.

Now the girl has long since gone..
With the waning season.
Now the golden sun has risen
Upon a new exciting dawn;
As the humble maid now greets the woman.

Mary Aris


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