The Earth Turns South/Summer
BY-ROADS-I.
Summer
I.High above the great winds pass, Tossing the tree-tops to the sky; And, just before they bluster by,They stoop to earth to ripple the grass.
II.The gross black spider seems to nap, Watching a gnat buzz idly by; But his black eyes gleam, as a butterflyLurches—is caught—in the fine-spun trap.
III.The village street-lights do their best, As the storm's lashed rushes come and go; But only the lightning's flash can showThe tossing trees on the drenched hill's crest.
IV.A patient bee, with his gold-tipped waist, Fills the sweet-clover with his hum, Working unrestingly for someHoney that he will never taste.
V.The golden-rod unbuttons each bud,Flings off its caps, and lets a hotAnd flaming splendor warm the spot. . . .And does gold always bloom out of mud?
VI.The noon wind woos with soft-tongued hiss,And each tree trembles, careless of blame,Hiding her bright green face for shame,Baring her gray breasts to his kiss.
VII.The daddy-long-legs, caught in the gate,Scuttles off, one leg the less.It does not mar his contentedness;Are not seven legs as good as eight?
VIII.The evergreens are shut from the skyBy oak and maple and hickory.Perhaps they are thinking, silently,It will be winter by and by.