Song from the Gaelic, Maybe

The fond summer numbers Fade from eye and ear; The angler in the stream Is no more there. For all one remembers The sigh comes easy, The long-drawn sigh For the green wish of summer Going by, gone by— Dream and illusion, Illusion and dream, And the fisherman gone Like the fly from the stream.

In the streets of the town People appear Dressed for the season In jackets and sweaters. So many good creatures! And some of them, cheery Out of all reason— (Oh, not you! And not I!)— Stoutly maintain, Avow and aver And insist on declaring The white wall of winter Is also a lie.