To the Summer Sun
(Coronado)
Great sun, why are you pitiless?
All day your glance is hard and keen
Upon the hills that once were green,
Where Summer, sere and comfortless,
Now lies brown-frocked against the sky
And makes of them her resting place,
Since she has drunk the valleys dry.
You never turn away your face,
And I, who love you, can not bear
Your long, barbaric, searching look
Down through the low cool flights of air –
Your tirelessness I cannot brook;
For all my body aches with light,
And you have glutted me with sight,
With flooding color made me blind
To homely things more soft and kind,
Till I have longed for clouds to roll
Between you and my troubled soul –
Oh, great Beloved, hide away
That I may miss you for a day!
~~
Marguerite Wilkinson (1883-1928)
from Bluestone: Lyrics, 1920
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
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