A Lover's Litanies

by Eric Mackay

xx.

And then in summer, when the hours are mad,
And all the flow'rets in the fields are glad,
And all the breezes, like demented things
Outspeed the birds with sunlight on their wings,
In summer, aye! in summer's gracious time,
I might perchance be pardon'd for the crime
Of my much love, and win thy benison
Ere yet the year has reached its golden prime!