I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart

Wild Lupines In Maine

Are But Summer To The Heart

I know I am but summer to your heart

And not the full four seasons of the year;

And you must welcome from another part

Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.

No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell

Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;

And I have loved you all too long and well

To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.

Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,

I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,

That you may hail anew the bird and rose

When I come back to you, as summer comes.

Else will you seek, at some not distant time,

Even your summer in another clime.

"I know I Am But Summer To Your Heart"

Sonnet XXVII

From "The Harp-Weaver

Edna St. Vincent Millay

(1892-1950)

 American Poetess and Playwright