My life's long radiant Summer halts at last
    And lo! beside my pathway I behold
Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold
    Has heralded her presence; but a vast
Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed
    Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold
Subdues the vivid coloring of bold
    And passion-hued emotions. I will cast
My August days behind me with my May,
    Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place,
Nor swear I hope when I do but remember.
    Now violet and rose have had their day
I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace
    And call September nothing but September.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906.

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