Classic Poem

I THOUGHT I knew all Summer knows,
So many summers I had been
Wed to Summer. Could I suppose
One hidden beauty still lurked in
Her days? that she might still disclose
New secrets, and new homage win?

Could new looks flit across the skies?
Could water ripple one new sound?
Could stranger bee or bird that flies
With yet new languages be found,
To bring me, to my glad surprise,
Message from yet remoter bound?

O sweet " this Summer! " Songs which sang
Summer before no longer mean
The whole of summer. Bells which rang
But minutes have marked years between.
Purple the grapes of Autumn hang:
My sweet " this Summer " still is green.

" This Summer " still, — forgetting all
Before and since and aye, — I say,
And shall say, when the deep snows fall,
And cold suns mark their shortest day.
New calendar, my heart will call;
" This Summer " still! Summer alway!

And when God's next sweet world we reach,
And the poor words we stammered here
Are fast forgot, while angels teach
Us spirit language quick and clear,
Perhaps some words of earthly speech
We still shall speak, and still hold dear.

And if some time in upper air
On swiftest wings we sudden meet,
And pause with answering smiles which share
Our joy, I think that we shall greet
Each other thus: " This world is fair;
But ah! that Summer too was sweet! "