We stood in late, late grasses lost, <br />Bare feet in midst of soft white sand <br />Near trees so old that even they <br />Could not recall when they began. <br /> <br />Still were we children, wistful, lone <br />In the sad autumn afternoon <br />Remembering, repining for <br />The days that disappeared too soon. <br /> <br />In fresh sweet dews of early dawn <br />We played the hours out gladly, so <br />When days of August spent and hot <br />Retired we sadly watched them go. <br /> <br />Then we were wise like children are. <br />When old trees shadow-voices called <br />We knew before they said our names <br />Our summer's interval had palled. <br /> <br />But soon remembering, rejoiced <br />For though the winter lingers long <br />The old trees called, 'Don't grieve, ' they said, <br />'Return of summer stirs e'erlong.'<br /><br />Kate Wiley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-return-of-summer/
