August Sonnet
Accursed month wherein my heart was slain,
A year is passing, you come round again.
Your temperate days, inviting us to rest,
Your promises of leisure heaven-blest;
How you lay on the charm, your branches full,
Your fruits abundant give a gentle pull
To lazy hands and minds and hearts carefree.
But surface calm should warn: more careful be.
Deception cruel your seeming paradise,
Your cloying heat of day, your moonlit nights.
At heart there lies a cold uncaring place
Beneath the warmth of your so August face.
Give me the winter, honest colder climes;
The danger plain, we live more cautious times.