Poems (Kennedy)/Indian Summer
For works with similar titles, see Indian Summer.
INDIAN SUMMER
A WHIP of mist across the silver dawn, A At eventide a purple haze Shot full of glinting fire;And on the everlasting hills, Where runs the road of Heart's Desire, The Bob-white's call of love Through vagrant ways.
Stirred by the wind the tawny sedge grass swings In waves that never touch a shore Nor break in foam;And o'er their windy wastes, on wings of flame, The scarlet tanager flits home— A voiceless specter of the spring And its sweet lore.
The daisies of St. Michael crest the hedge Where droops the faded goldenrod— A miser's rifled dream;And in the heart that erst was reft of hope A brooding peace that reigns supreme, And in the soul a sense Of kinship unto God.