UNTIL NEXT SUMMER. 1 53
��UNTIL NEXT SUMMER.
FOLD up the robes which the summer has kissed, Lay them away, they will not be missed ; Crumple the furbelows fleecy and light, Crush down the gossamer floating and white ; Fold them up softly, sweet maiden, to-day, For the sunshine of summer has melted away.
The roses and lilies, so fair and so frail,
Have gone from the garden and died in the vale,
And pansies and gentian and sweet mignonette,
With the tears of November are drooping and wet;
So, fair little maiden, the light tissues fold
Ere the sun of December shines whitely and cold.
But dream not to wear them again, as to-day, When the wheels of the year crush the blossoms of
May;
For ah, ! the gay bodice may clasp in the breast A heart full of sorrow and weary unrest ; And sombre-hued sackcloth the spirit may shroud, While the form bears the colors it flaunted unbowed.
So, folding thy vesture to lay out of sight,
With sweet-smelling posies, with heart bounding
light,
Yet fling in a prayer for the strength you may need A prayer which He grants to the storm-beaten reed, For strength in its weakness, a stay evermore Until winters and summers on earth shall be o er.
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