Where have all the flowers gone? Summer flowers in the woods at Mio, Michigan are now withered. Summer days are now gone as the faded flower "and all its budded charm." Reminds me of English Romantic poet John Keats who compared departure at the end of day from his love as a faded flower.
"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!"
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.
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