Coming up to the last two weeks of summer, and feeling the days shorten and the birdsong start later each morning. As we studied sonnets in my poetry class a few weeks ago, I found one that was appropriate for this summer's shift toward middle age:
A Calendar Of Sonnets: August
Poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Silence again. The glorious symphony
Hath need of pause and interval of peace.
Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease,
Save hum of insects' aimless industry.
Pathetic summer seeks by blazonry
Of color to conceal her swift decrease.
Weak subterfuge! Each mocking day doth fleece
A blossom, and lay bare her poverty.
Poor middle-aged summer! Vain this show!
Whole fields of Golden-Rod cannot offset
One meadow with a single violet;
And well the singing thrush and lily know,
Spite of all artifice which her regret
Can deck in splendid guise, their time to go!
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