The torrid heat of summer starts to break
When night and day have almost equal parts,
When middle morning sunlight seems to make
A dancing path through still, green leaves and darts
From tree to forest floor with lively grace,
Enchanting every object it may touch.
At such a time the earth seems such a place
That one cannot be troubled overmuch.
At such a time life's energies abound,
And death, though never far, seems to lack power;
Still distant Hades sends the muffled sound
Of angry captive souls who crave the hour
When as the radiant morn appears most bright,
Chaos flies in; the veil is rent; it's night.