Summer Girls
I see summer girls in splendor
Walk footbare on fields of green
Sea-wet hair dried by warm breezes
Swirling through an open screen.
I see summer skin sun-ripened
Under flowing loose white gown
Mound of freckled salt-stiff breast
Hair at nape of neck like down.
I see summer girls in laughter
After yellow ball spins round
Voices murmur in the twilight
Fever rising with the sound.
I see summer rain on faces
Sleep-soft bodies stir in morn
Stain of virgin seed and berry
Strut of sainted youth reborn.
I see you summer girls and dread
The day veils will turn heartless
No more to open on blue hills
When I lie down with darkness.
~Joeseph Dunphy
I see summer girls in splendor
Walk footbare on fields of green
Sea-wet hair dried by warm breezes
Swirling through an open screen.
I see summer skin sun-ripened
Under flowing loose white gown
Mound of freckled salt-stiff breast
Hair at nape of neck like down.
I see summer girls in laughter
After yellow ball spins round
Voices murmur in the twilight
Fever rising with the sound.
I see summer rain on faces
Sleep-soft bodies stir in morn
Stain of virgin seed and berry
Strut of sainted youth reborn.
I see you summer girls and dread
The day veils will turn heartless
No more to open on blue hills
When I lie down with darkness.
~Joeseph Dunphy
I know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of spring.
Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,
I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
That you may hail anew the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else will you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.
~Edna St.Vincent Milay
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet breast of spring.
Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,
I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
That you may hail anew the bird and rose
When I come back to you, as summer comes.
Else will you seek, at some not distant time,
Even your summer in another clime.
~Edna St.Vincent Milay
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