/i AMENT FOR THE ^UMMER, 
/|K|OAN, oh ye Autumn Winds! 
*** Summer has fled, 
The flowers have closed their tender leaves and die; 
The lily’s gracious head 
All low must lie, 
Because the gentle Summer now is dead. 
Grieve, oh ye Autumn Winds! 
Summer lies low; 
The rose's trembling leaves will soon be shed, 
For she that loved her so, 
Alas, is dead ! 
And one by one her loving children go. 
Wail, oh ye Autumn Winds ! 
She lives no more, 
The gentle Summer, with her balmy breath, 
Still sweeter than before 
When nearer death, 
And brighter every day the smile she wore! 
Adelaide Anne Procter. 
