August
August days are hot and still,
Not a breath on house or hill,
Not a breath on height or plain,
Weary travelers cry for rain;
But the children quickly find
A shady place quite to their mind;
And there all quietly they stay,
Until the sun has gone away,—
August is too hot for play!
~~
Annette Wynne (1919-1922 fl.)
from For Days and Days, 1919.
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
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