After the fierce midsummer all ablaze <br /> Has burned itself to ashes, and expires <br /> In the intensity of its own fires, <br />There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days <br />Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. <br /> So after Love has led us, till he tires <br /> Of his own throes, and torments, and desires, <br /> Comes large-eyed Friendship: with a restful gaze. <br />He beckons us to follow, and across <br /> Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. <br /> Is it a touch of frost lies in the air? <br />Why are we haunted with a sense of loss? <br />We do not wish the pain back, or the heat; <br />And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/friendship-after-love/
