Summer's Glare

The sun rides high, a fiery ball,
And casts its glare on fields of gold,
The summer's heat envelops all,
A tale of warmth, in days of old.
The air is thick, the world lies still,
Beneath the sun's relentless ray,
And nature rests, with languid will,
Until the close of fading day.

About Sara Teasdale

American lyric poet, known for her poems on love, nature, and the feminine experience. Her work often displays a delicate and musical quality.

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