August's Hold

August's Hold

‘Twas noon and in the summer of the air
Were scented hints of autumn soon to fall,
And all the weeks of warmth would be behind
The frosts that come to cover over all.

Brave Sol is sinking down toward the trees,
And with him goes the end of summer days.
The dread of winter’s chill eclipses life;
I would that August’s hold could last always.

The sun will soon leave bare the sullen sky--
No clouds yet mar the alt’ring of its hue.
To black and gloomy attitude of night
It goes, from wide expanse of thoughtful blue.