In celebration of the day when all workers are meant to lay down the tools of their trade–and to mark the official close of summer–we encourage our contributing poets to put down their pens and enjoy the inspiration that the end of a season surely brings.

With a roster of wonderful contemporary poets planned for the coming months, this week we dipped into the trove of public domain poetry to offer a lovely reflection from Elizabeth Rebecca Ward, who wrote as Fay Inchfawn.  Born in 1880, Fay Inchfawn published 39 books, beginning when she was 39 years old.  She died at the age of 97 in 1978, having treated a variety of commonplace subjects with an endearing light and careful touch.



Summer Met Me
By Fay Inchfawn
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Summer met me in the glade,
With a host of fair princesses,
Golden iris, foxgloves staid,
Sunbeams flecked their gorgeous dresses.
Roses followed in her train,
Creamy elder-flowers beset me,
Singing, down the scented lane,
Summer met me!

Summer met me! Harebells rang,
Honeysuckle clustered near,
As the royal pageant sang
Songs enchanting to the ear.
Rainy days may come apace,
Nevermore to grieve or fret me,
Since, in all her radiant grace,
Summer met me!

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