A COMPARISON IN A SEASIDE FIELD

1903

'Tis royal and authentic June

Over this poor soil blossoming;

Here lies, beneath an upright noon,

Thin nation for so wild a king.

Far off, the noble Summer rules,

Violent in the ardent rose,

His sun alight in mirroring pools,

Braggart on Alps of vanquished snows;

Away, aloft, true to his hour,
Announced, his colour, his fire, his jest.

But here, in negligible flower,
Summer is not proclaimed:confessed.

A woman I marked; for her no state,
Small joy, no song. She had her boon,
Her only youth, true to its date,
Faintly perceptible, her June.

End of title

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