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Poem	It will be Summer -- eventually. Ladies -- with parasols -- Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes -- And little Girls -- with Dolls -- Will tint the pallid landscape -- As 'twere a bright Bouquet -- Thro' drifted deep, in Parian -- The Village lies -- today -- The Lilacs -- bending many a year -- Will sway with purple load -- The Bees -- will not despise the tune -- Their Forefathers -- have hummed -- The Wild Rose -- redden in the Bog -- The Aster -- on the Hill Her everlasting fashion -- set -- And Covenant Gentians -- frill -- Till Summer folds her miracle -- As Women -- do -- their Gown -- Of Priests -- adjust the Symbols -- When Sacrament -- is done --
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