When Summer Dies, a Poem
In looking for notes on a book I had drafted, I found a book of poetry written by my great grandmother and typed by my grandmother. Hope you enjoy. This was written by Janet Wickett.
When Summer Dies
When summer dies, it leaves me drear,
On fading flowers I shed a tear.
A feeling I cannot define,
Haunts me and my spirit pines.
When summer dies, abject am I,
Clouds of gray obscure the sky.
The leaves that fly across the plain,
Mould and return to earth again.
As though bereaved as a leafless tree,
Would that I were a tree, all winter wait in apathy,
Content to sleep the winter end,
Till spring echoes gently with a song.