Summer is left behind.
And left behind the long nights of June,
When the lights were soft in the waters’ shine—
Softer your lips when they first met mine—
Blurred is the Autumn moon.
Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,
And oh, for the warmth of your arms again!
Immutability
Within your hands you hold the wealth of years,
Old Time,—yes, all the gold of yesterday,