SUMMER'S last sun nigh unto setting shines Through yon columnar pines, And on the deepening shadows of the lawn Its golden lines are drawn. Dreaming of long gone summer days like this, Feeling the wind's soft kiss, Grateful and glad that failing ear and sight Have still their old delight, I sit alone, and watch the warm, sweet day Lapse tenderly away; And, wistful, with a feeling of forecast, I ask, "Is this the last? "Will nevermore for me the seasons run Their round, and will the sun Of ardent summers yet to come forget For me to rise and set?" Thou shouldst be here, or I should be with thee Wherever thou mayst be, Lips mute, hands clasped, in silences of speech Each answering unto each. For this still hour, this sense of mystery far Beyond the evening star, No words outworn suffice on lip or scroll: The soul would fain with soul Wait, while these few swift-passing days fulfil The wise-disposing Will, And, in the evening as at morning, trust The All-Merciful and Just. The solemn joy that soul-communion feels Immortal life reveals; And human love, its prophecy and sign, Interprets love divine. Come then, in thought, if that alone may be, O friend! and bring with thee Thy calm assurance of transcendent Spheres And the Eternal Years! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IF DEATH IS KIND by SARA TEASDALE AN ODE, PARAPHRASED: THE CUP by ANACREON A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE by THOMAS CAREW VIRTUE [OR, VERTUE] by GEORGE HERBERT SONNET: 19. ON HIS BLINDNESS by JOHN MILTON THE SWORD by ABU BAKR OF MARRAKESH |