SUMMER HAS DIED by CARROLL RYAN

'Twas a lingering death that the Summer died,
As it turned and returned again,
As the lover returns to the loved one's side,
Renewing his rapture and pain.

Ah! beautiful Summer! Beautiful dead!
As the leaves that blow over thy tomb,
Recall the sad thought of the glory that's fled,
Sere memory lives through the gloom.

The gloom that o'ershadows a dream of the past
O, say! was it all but a dream?
Was the bread of my heart so wantonly cast
On a never returning stream?

I built up a temple of hope in thy skies,
For an idol of beauty and grace,
But, swift as the rift of the summer cloud flies,
It has vanished—dissolved into space.

While empty and cold as a newly made grave
Is the place where my temple arose,
And the blood in my heart, like the ocean wave,
Still remorselessly ebbs and flows.

O, Summer! I've turned and returned like thee,
Recalling the glimpses of youth,
But to glean in the harvest of misery
An alien gleaning like Ruth.

O, Summer! dead Summer! you came to my heart
A hopeful and beautiful bride,
But strangely and coldly I see thee depart.
Like a ghost that haunted my side.

The leaves are all fallen, the flowers are dead,
The wind has a dirge in its tone,
And visions that came with the Summer have fled
And left me with Winter alone.

But Winter is welcome, its dreariest day
Has hope of a Summer in store;
As snow on the hillside grief passeth away,
And the mourner will mourn nevermore.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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