The Death of Summer

Nearly three months of joyful bliss,
Are soon to be cut short and sorely missed,
For tomorrow commences a new era in time,
It marks the death of summertime

Children no longer may bask in the sun,
To an end the habit of staying up late has come,
Laziness must be replaced by responsibility and diligence,
For that is school in its quintessence

The pleasant novel read at home,
Will be imminently replaced by the hundred-pound tome,
The refreshing summer zephrs,
Will give rise to the professors’ lectures

Students near and far don cloaks of black,
And with grief-stricken hearts, go weeping down the track,
That leads to the funeral where they must suffer,
For on that eve they mourn the death of summer

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