Monday, August 29, 2011

30. The Summer Dies

As sunlight draws its coronets
the trees present themselves as royalty.
Unearthly twilight dyes the world
and every leaf appears as if a god.

Your face, angelic, rose to me,
enchanted, stirring in me tender love.
Illuminated in such light,
could any mortal eye be thus deceived?


  1. I like the meter of this poem -- the alternating tetrameters and pentameters! Skillful and deft!

  2. Thank you as always, Dylan. :)


One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.

- Emily Dickinson