Henry Alford

Sonnet LXXIII. Summer, When the Prime Is Reached, But There Are Tokens Of Decay.

For Summer I would paint a married pair Sitting in close embraces, while a band Of children kneel before them hand in hand; Healthful their cheeks, and from their mantling hair, Well--knit and clear, their downward limbs are bare; His hand is past over her neck, and prest In pride of love upon her full ripe breast; And yet his brow is delved with lines of care, And in her shining eye one truant tear Stands, ready to be shed:--a quiet scene, But not without perchance intruding fear That never comes again what once hath been; And recollection that our fondest toil But weaves a texture for the world to soil.