Sonnet, These Summer Days

These summer days are coming to an end And everything will return to its dark The conduct colors with their lots of blend That in beginning showed their different spark So much is lost of gladness to the grief When a splendor withers its sweetest hours And darkness comes again with its believe Of mystic ways - in falling autumn showers These years are here to open up our eyes Fill the prudent with charming hours of lust For each footstep to be parted in disguise That breather the air: fortunate and rust Occasions are to treat from each trickle For every sweet hour hurries their fickle