August

Now August’s come, please urge the summer heat
To blunt the silent edge, where your pet's still
Remembering you swept her off her feet
With loving tokens, depleting all will,
That might resist advances by laced pools
Where wood-shadows are warm; the pungent leaves
Will add the frankest fragrance to the brush,
Where she surrenders; and she learns to please
The master of her summer, who will crush
Green moss, lush grass and the unwary fern
That trespass on the path, where she would tread
To be pressed to the grey boughs, where she'll learn
It's to sir's verdant pleasures she is wed;
You'll blunt her silent edge with summer fun
And she will please sir now that August’s come.