Sonnet, These Summer Days Poem by Peter S. Quinn

These summer days are coming to an end
And everything will return to its dark
The conduct colors with their lots of blend
That in beginning showed their different spark
So much is lost of gladness to the grief
When a splendor withers its sweetest hours
And darkness comes again with its believe
Of mystic ways - in falling autumn showers

These years are here to open up our eyes
Fill the prudent with charming hours of lust
For each footstep to be parted in disguise
That breather the air: fortunate and rust
Occasions are to treat from each trickle
For every sweet hour hurries their fickle