Poems (Jackson)/This Summer

by Helen Hunt Jackson

THIS SUMMER.

THOUGHT I knew all Summer knows, I So many summers I had beenWed to Summer. Could I suppose One hidden beauty still lurked inHer days? that she might still disclose New secrets, and new homage win?

Could new looks flit across the skies? Could water ripple one new sound? Could stranger bee or bird that flies With yet new languages be found,To bring me, to my glad surprise, Message from yet remoter bound?

O sweet "this Summer!" Songs which sang Summer before no longer meanThe whole of summer. Bells which rang But minutes have marked years between.Purple the grapes of Autumn hang: My sweet "this Summer" still is green.

"This Summer " still,—forgetting all Before and since and aye,—I say,And shall say, when the deep snows fall, And cold suns mark their shortest day.New calendar, my heart will call; "This Summer" still! Summer alway!

And when God's next sweet world we reach, And the poor words we stammered hereAre fast forgot, while angels teach Us spirit language quick and clear,Perhaps some words of earthly speech We still shall speak, and still hold dear.

And if some time in upper air On swiftest wings we sudden meet,And pause with answering smiles which share Our joy, I think that we shall greetEach other thus: "This world is fair; But ah! that Summer too was sweet!"