Poem by Alexander Lawrence Posey

Midsummer

I SEE the millet combing gold
  From summer sun,
In hussar caps, all day;
&nbs; And brown quails run
Far down the dusty way,
  Fly up and whistle from the wold;

Sweet delusions on the mountains,
  Of hounds in chase,
    Beguiling every care 
  Of life apace,
    Though only fevered air 
That trembles, and dies in mounting.

1. Mother and Baby
2. Nightfall
3. Song of the Oktahutchee
4. To My Wife
5. On Viewing the Skull and Bones of a Wolf

William Bryant Midsummer ("A power is on the earth and in the air")

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