From Sunset To Star Rise

Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not:

I am no summer friend, but wintry cold,

A silly sheep benighted from the fold,

A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot.

Summer's End

Jo Wilmot

Take counsel, sever my lot from your lot,

Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold,

Lest you with me should shiver on the wold,

Athirst and hungering on a barren spot.

For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge.

I live alone. I look to die alone.

Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge,

Ghosts of my buried years and friends come back

My heart goes sighing after swallows flown

On sometime summer's unreturning track.

"From Sunset To Star Rise"

Christina Georgina Rossetti

(1830-1894)

English romantic poetess