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Summer’s Departure
Processing Southward, duty done,
Departs the summer's sumpt.
We now see her setting sun,
Adieu! for she is trumped.
How blesséd were the days she reigned,
So tranquil and eternal,
Earth's small, paradisal feign—
Now must descend, hibernal.
Her gaity's herald was the Spring,
But he withdraws beside her,
Azal’ea trumpet lowering,
Fearing Autumn, his derider.
Take up your lanterns; bid them well
At Autumn's darking march.
That potentate arrives to dwell
In wait of the Winter Eparch.
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I wrote this in late August of this year as the seasons were changing. It was a good summer, and I was sad to see it go.