Wispy summer bides a hesitating bye,
As nature's law forces exile
To the other hemisphere, along Nile,
Awaits which eagerly hot fairy's sigh,
That tropical ever-greenery doth wry
Over the cool lover gone vile;—
Makest love too much in spring's guile,
Over-bred, she calls thou with a cry.
Thou but autumn-stricken here:
Pine for these dew rainy nights
Over the winter flowers already sown,
Like a mother thou fear
Warmly for children left alone in cold's delights,
And with a fleecy sob thou moan.
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