Fair Summer Droops
Fair
summer
droops,
droop
men
and
beasts
therefore,
So
fair
a
summer
look
for
nevermore:
All
good
things
vanish
less
than
in
a
day,
Peace,
plenty,
pleasure,
suddenly
decay.
Go
not
yet
away,
bright
soul
of
the
sad
year,
The
earth
is
hell
when
thou
leav'st
to
appear.
What,
shall
those
flowers
that
decked
thy
garland
erst,
Upon
thy
grave
be
wastefully
dispersed?
O
trees,
consume
your
sap
in
sorrow's
source,
Streams,
turn
to
tears
your
tributary
course.
Go
not
yet
hence,
bright
soul
of
the
sad
year,
The
earth
is
hell
when
thou
leav'st
to
appear.
