Light loves and soon forgotten hates,
Heat-lightnings of the brooding summer sky—
Ye too bred of the summer's heat,
Ye too, like summer, fleet—
Ye have gone by.
Walks in the woods and whispers over gates,
Gay rivalries of tennis and croquet—
Gone with the summer sweet,
Gone with the swallow fleet
Southward away!
Breath of the rose, laughter of maids
Kissed into silence by the setting moon;
Wind of the morn that wakes and blows,
And hastening night that goes
Too soon—too soon!
Meetings and partings, tokens, serenades,
Tears—idle tears—and coy denials vain;
Flower of the summer's rose,
Say, will your leaves unclose
Ever again?