Nodding golden halo-crown,
Petals wrapped in dressing-gown
Curtsy low and, praying, bend
To usher in the Summer’s end.
Don’t be sorry, Sunshine, though glory meets its doom;
don’t grip your resentment though your smile has lost its bloom.
No insects vie for pollen, no bees hang on your words,
but in the sunset of your life, seeds satisfy the birds.