SEPTEMBER

My life's long radiant Summer halts at last,

And lo! beside my path way I behold

Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold

Has heralded her presence; but a vast

Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed

Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold

Subdues the vivid colouring of bold

And passion-hued emotions. I will cast

My August days behind me with my May,

Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place,

Nor swear I hope when I do but remember.

Now violet and rose have had their day,

I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace

And call September nothing but September.