O Queenly month of indolent repose! I drink thy breath in sips of rare perfume, As in thy downy lap of clover-bloom I nestle like a drowsy child and doze The lazy hours away. The zephyr throws The shifting shuttle of the Summer's loom And weaves a damask-work of gleam and gloom Before thy listless feet. The lily blows A bugle-call of fragrance o'er the glade; And, wheeling into ranks, with plume and spear, Thy harvest-armies gather on parade; While, faint and far away, yet pure and clear, A voice calls out of alien lands of shade: -- All hail the Peerless Goddess of the Year! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PET NAME by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TO FLUSH, MY DOG by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 23 by OMAR KHAYYAM SONG OF THE ANGELS AT THE NATIVITY by NAHUM TATE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 124 by ALFRED TENNYSON TO A SQUIRREL AT KYLE-NA-NO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE RHYME OF SIR LAUNCELOT BOGLE; A LEGEND OF GLASGOW by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |