Come now, September, faithful friend,
On whose pure, light air do I depend.
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I love this poem! The seasons with their human-like traits! Yes September is just enough relief, but not too much of anything to steal away hope and belief like the dead of winter can. Just Beautiful.
Oh wow, what an absolutely stunning picture you offer up. The dreams of kings and queens could in no way give more splendor than these fine words. A nearly perfect poem... in my humble opinion. A scale of 10 does not do it justice.