It’s late in the summer, and that time of year,
When you and your friends suddenly appear.
Daylight fades and the world, it grows dim;
Lights are switched on and you head on in.
From the darkened garden, you eagerly swarm
To worship your sun blazing bright and warm.
Your long, dangling limbs are extremely lithe;
Your spirit is keen and is extremely blithe.
You dance so daintily round the light:
Round your sun which blazes so bright.
You dart, you dive, you twist, you turn,
But venture too near and you will burn.
The warming light, you just can’t resist:
By its hot rays, you have been kissed.
Of your dainty dance, you never tire;
To worship your sun is your one desire.
I climb into bed, having switched off the light,
And, suddenly, you are erased from my sight.
The following morning, my eyes scan the place,
But, of you, I am unable to find any trace.
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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