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

Ella Wilcox Midsummer ("After the May time, and after the June time")

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