Author Robert Loveman He wantons with the blushing East, He woos the naked Noon, The shameless Summer spreads a feast, When he doth clasp the June. And his forsaken bride of old, Disdainful in distress, Wanders o'er Night's star fields of gold, Cold, pale, and passionless. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments