Summer is on the verge of collapse. The days of its ruin are almost unbearably sweet and soft, and the nights are cool, and fragrant with dried grass. Tonight I've heard hooves on the pavement out front, and the crackle of brush being devoured by deer. The dog next door barks. He can see by that faint moonlight, but shortly past eight o'clock I already must rely only the report of my ears. How early it has grown dark!
by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.