Or, a summer once passed. A Forgotten Memory.
In the lush enclosure near
Algal star-specked water spreads:
Where young, god-likes cheer
And puncture the pond’s Prussian veneer
With their flaxen heads.
So trees and brush aplenty surround
With deer and ancient owls around;
And there were stacks of bone-dry woods,
Used to brighten flames of reds,
And here the youths spent boyhoods,
Folding turf to form their beds.
But oh! That cavern which towered there
Bending over the blue oasis pool!
An uncivil chamber! As bleak and bare
As though unearthing a deep nightmare
Thought by a fiendish ghoul.
And in this cavern, with jagged stone,
As if the basalt was voicing its groan,
An echo rang to the god-likes’ ears,
Rippling the water with its scream,
The earth shook and shuddered strong
And the cavern continued its haunted song:
And off split a rod of sable-dark rock
Which one god-like picked up with shock.
The god-like held the rod in his palm
Within the darkened, gloomy glade,
Then observed the rod’s sharp, keen blade,
And spoke under his breath a sacred psalm;
And as though the god-like was supreme,
The nightmare landscape warmed to a dream!
The rod gleamed in the Summer Sun
Mirrored in the god-like’s face,
He became nearly undone
His cheeks rose with relief and grace.
It was a miracle of young Summer Days,
A moment of rest and glory in the returned rays!
A honey-dew melon once
The young god-likes found:
The melon soft and ripe,
Juice dripping down in stripe,
The god-likes cut it open.
They used the sharp rod to slice its flesh
And ate the damp fruit with youthful haste,
The juice splashing their faces fresh,
That their skin, young and chaste,
Was splattered with that sick-sweet dew,
In that moody oasis there!
And all who saw them would then view,
And all would say, They knew! They knew!
The melon juice, the blackened rod, and pond of blue!
Made them know the real and true,
And drove them from their holy stance
For they dampened their chaste trance,
All for adolescent, honey-sweet Summer.