Summer Hours Poem by Helen Gray Cone
Summer Hours
Hours aimless-drifting as the milkweed's down
In seeming, still a seed of joy ye bear
That steals into the soul when unaware,
And springs up Memory in the stony town.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: aimless,joy,memory
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8/28/2026 7:21:26 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
