I know a place where summer strives
With such a practised frost,
She each year leads her daisies back,
Recording briefly, βLost.β
But when the south wind stirs the pools
And struggles in the lanes,
Her heart missives her for her vow,
And she pours soft refrains
Into the lap of adamant,
And spices, and the dew,
That stiffens quietly to quartz
Upon her amber shoe.
