Explore "September" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My life's long radiant Summer halts at last, / And lo! beside my path way I behold / Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold / Has heralded her presence; but a vast / Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed / Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold / Subdues the vivid colouring of bold / And passion-hued emotions. I will cast
My August days behind me with my May, / Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place, / Nor swear I hope when I do but remember. / Now violet and rose have had their day, / I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace / And call September nothing but September.