Farewell my fruitful Summer, I shall ne’er forget your scent,
Though the apple-trees in Autumn with the scowling winds are bent,
When the leaves are whirling quickly, and gather into heaps,
And o’er the hills the Winter comes and through his carriage window peeps.
When the swallows have flown over the wild and rocky sea,
I shall ne’er forget your perfume, and the gentle humming bee.
And when I sit and think of you when you came along the glen,
I cannot wait with patience till I see your face again.
Sammie Forgrave Age 12