THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER. ALL the sweet summer azure is not fled What hath the woodland, then, to do with grief? The apparition of a yellow leaf, The half-suspected russet overheadOf this it dreams, and is disquieted. Snowdrops and other dainty things as brief, Whereof the young anemones were chief, The tremulous anemones are dead. Long since the snowdrops have been fain to die; Long since the anemones have pass'd away : Some colour'd leaves discolour every morn— Touch'd by the thought of which chronology The trees have something that they long to say, Inaudible, multitudinous, forlorn. August 31, 1885. VIRGILII ÆNEIS. LIB. VI. 1–281. ANGLICE REDDITA. I. So he speaks weeping, and speeds on full sail Oceanward, safe at last from surf and gale, The sailors turn their prows. Their perils o'er, The merry men leap on the Hesperian shore; II. But good Æneas seeks the shrine exalted The Sybil's home. Her mighty mind and sprite And touch the opening future with his light. The temple's dazzling lines, fretted with golden fire. |