The Witching of Summer

Summer came lingering north;
She passed through the valley, I wist,
For the hillsides all put forth
And pilfered her veil of mist.
She danced through the meadows, fleet,
And the buttercups, brazen-bold,
Stole from her rosy feet
The little sandals of gold.

She slept in the upland field
And the daisies plotted, I trow,
To hold her till she should yield
Her gold-starred kirtle of snow.
And after she fled to the wood
The oak and the ash were seen
Flaunting, in hardihood,
Her flowing mantle of green.

But woe to those rogues, enriched
By thievery! Sooth to tell,
The garments were all bewitched
With charms that they could not spell.
She gave them the end of their tether—
Then vanished away in the air
And left them all naked together,
Shivering, gaunt, and bare!
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