And in its stead the warm caress of air
As temperate and all-embracing as
At summer’s peak, but with a plangent strain
For well we know its like won’t come again
For many months, we take ourselves outdoors
And share with friends of vintage old and new
A draft of vineyard’s fine fermented crop
And orchard’s too, together with a feast
Unmatched in time’s remembrance; yea, we glut
Ourselves on flavors fair and, fairer still,
The gentle hand of Helios on our all-
Unburdened bodies; thus we meet the end
Of summer’s season with defiant mien.
You say tomorrow beckons, cold and drear,
And well you might; but for today we play
In summer’s final bounty of delight.