Classic Poem

Set like a central ruby on the brow
Of summer, but a fiery month thou art,
July! and yet we hail thee. Thou hast part
In Nature's chivalry: knight-errant thou,—
Hot, fierce, impetuous; on thy lips a vow
To do thy great devoirs with loyal heart,
Thy lance the sunbeam, laid in rest to thwart
All alien forces. Ah, right brave, I trow,
The deeds that we shall hear of! In the corn
Already there are whisperings; harvest days
Shall bring full tidings, heralding thy praise,
And the ripe year, winding his jocund horn,
Shall boast thy brave exploits with lusty breath
And own thee knightly even unto death.