We stood in late, late grasses lost,
Bare feet in midst of soft white sand
Near trees so old that even they
Could not recall when they began.
Still were we children, wistful, lone
In the sad autumn afternoon
Remembering, repining for
The days that disappeared too soon.
In fresh sweet dews of early dawn
We played the hours out gladly, so
When days of August spent and hot
Retired we sadly watched them go.
Then we were wise like children are.
When old trees shadow-voices called
We knew before they said our names
Our summer's interval had palled.
But soon remembering, rejoiced
For though the winter lingers long
The old trees called, 'Don't grieve, ' they said,
'Return of summer stirs e'erlong.'
Kate, Once again you have brought back the magic of childhood...I remember those happy times and the winter days in the city where, of course, there were no trees to remind us of The Return of Summer. Another lovely poem...no one does it better. Fondly, Dorothy
During winter, we crave for the return of the summer, while in summer, we invite the winter to come soon. A fine write up about the summer.
Superb write.I love to think of the shadow voices of the old trees. Praise for your rich imagination. Love, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am back again enjoying your beautiful summer poem...It has been much too long...I hope you are well. Most Sincerely Dorothy Alves Holmes A Poet Who Loves To Sing