Poem by John Payne

July

THE meadows slumber in the golden shine;
Full-mirrored in the river's glass serene,
Stirless, the blue sky sleeps; knee-deep in green,
Nigh o'er-content for grazing are the kine.
The russet hops hang ripening on the bine;
The birds are mute; no clouds there are between
The slumbering lands to come and the sun's sheen;
The day is drowsed with Summer's 'wildering wine.
Peace over all is writ: fought is the fight;
From Winter for the nonce the field is won
And the tired earth can slumber in the sun
And dream her summer-dreams of still increase;
Whil'st, as the long rays lengthen to the night,
The breeze o'er all the landscape murmurs "Peace!"

1. The Foredawn Hour
2. September
3. August
4. December
5. October

Alexander Posey July ("THE air without has taken fever")

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