September comes along the great green way
That Spring and Summer fashioned for our feet.
And though her face is beautiful and sweet,
Though gracious smiles about her ripe mouth play,
Yet subtle recollections of each day
Of idleness in her large look I meet.
All things achieved stand small and incomplete
Beside the boastful promises of May!
Now I berate fair June, who tempted me
With fragrant beds of roses, and as well
Her siren sisters, who were following near;
But most of all I do accuse the Sea.
Reach me thine hand, and help me break the spell,
September, matron-mentor of the year!

Poems of Problems. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
London : Gay and Hancock, 1914.

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