August casts her burning spell:
One vast sapphire is the sky;
Wood still have their musky smell,
By the pool the dragon fly
Like a jeweled scarf pin glows,
Doris, Vera, and Kathleen—
Where are they? and where are those
Moons we saw at seventeen?

Bright as amber, and as round
As a new engagement ring—
(So we murmured, gently bound
To some flapper’s leading string.)
Sweet and witless repartee:
Perilous canoes careen—
Telescopes would split, to see
MOONS we saw at seventeen.