A FEW more days in this unkind July, This moon of stormy countenance drear and wan, And you will have departed to put on The moors and mountains as a robe laid by, And brought forth dipped in nature's Tyrian dye. For me, here lingering where your light hath shone, A glamour will have passed, a glory gone; A paler earth will wear a greyer sky. Yet none the less this City as of old Shall throb with feverous heart-beats day by day: And tower and spire shall catch the dear last ray Of suns that bid adieu with kiss of gold: Thames shall roll on, as long ago he rolled: But you -- but you will then be far away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SATIRE: 5 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS TWILIGHT TIME by ANNA MCINTOSH BEVILLE WRESTLING by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE MODERN VERSION (TO A LUCY STONER) by BERTON BRALEY AMORINO by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE FERRY OF GALLAWAY by ALICE CARY MOAN ON THE PRARIE by MARY F. COCHRANE |