Summer

The month of summer of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild flowers go its way,
and spend summer season on a single day.
The spring-time holds him red and purple love;
August, hot, beauty them far and near;
the summer charily his reds cloth lay
Like jewels on his ugly cloths;
August, scornful, burns them on the tree.
The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign
Of kingdom: pinker pearls than winter knew,
Oar empress wore, in Vietnamese's ancient line,
August, feasting 'Neath his dome of red
Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through
Sunshiny air, as in a tingling smile!
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
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COMMENTS
Gajanan Mishra 28 August 2013
sunshiny air, I like it, thanks.
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