Yet I look in vain for the heart of summer; Its mid-day wonder veils the sky’s overtones, The tangible splendor that’s not the same at dusk— Beneath the hot breath of noon lie; The flowered breath upon this earth, its shining, green graces, And when I fail, then I dream of nature— Abandoned by the pageant of light, a sound louder than silence; All the radiant stands that stand beneath, Ending in bright intensity of substance only, and again, Goodness is not the golden approach, But things that lose their light. As I am left.

• “Summer’s Heart”

• Laura Riding