After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires, There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires, Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze, He beckons us to follow, and across Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. Is it a touch of frost lies in the air? Why are we haunted with a sense of loss? We do not wish the pain back, or the heat; And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE GIRL LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE UPON WEDLOCK, AND DEATH OF CHILDREN by EDWARD TAYLOR MOUNTAIN PICTURES: 2. MONADNOCK FROM WACHUSETT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE BELFRY PIGEON by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS THE END by BYRON HAVERLY BLACKFORD COMRADE CHRIST by VERNE BRIGHT |