“Summer” by W.S. Merwin
Be of this brightness dyed
Whose unrecking fever
Flings gold before it goes
Into voids finally
That have no measure.
Bird-sleep, moonset,
Island after island,
Be of their hush
On this tide that balance
A time, for a time.
Islands are not forever,
Nor this light again,
Tide-set, brief summer,
Be of their secret
That fears no other.
