A Comparison in a Seaside Field
’Tis royal and authentic June
   Over this poor soil blossoming;
Here lies, beneath an upright noon,
   Thin nation for so wild a king.
Far off, the noble Summer rules,
   Violent in the ardent rose,
His sun alight in mirroring pools,
   Braggart on Alps of vanquished snows;
Away, aloft, true to his hour,
   Announced, his colour, his fire, his jest.
But here, in negligible flower,
   Summer is not proclaimed:—confessed.
A woman I marked; for her no state,
   Small joy, no song. She had her boon,
Her only youth, true to its date,
   Faintly perceptible, her June.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (lane@elcore.net)
Created April 14, 2001; not revised.