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Show RAINLESS AUGUST. Summer gits like an aged crone, Pallid and griray, amid her &ihe?; Dew and blun-orns liave left her alone, Orv as volcano's burnt-out con, Duud cr iter where n ver tirw tlnsbes. Fiid A h-'T green and kIobj- linir, Green s a mormaii'i waving treses; Ho low and ii ikeii be- du I 'ys wh'jre The liaroe of tbe dawn ehor.e bright and fair, And rugged and torn aro her dreigei. Powdored dust bee thick on hur hoxr); lioit no more lurks in hr pule emb re; Dust lieth thick wherever w tread, Dust of tho grave and dust of the dea i And her early boauty, who remembers? Her shabby robaa hang brown and sear; Qiine arn ber smiles and her goituro cheery; GhoeU of I ho flowora wuar their cerements cere-ments drear, "While ray-clad phantoms around her . leer, And of poor old summer we're all aweary. Emily E. Ford. |