John Scully

Rookie (19th October 1947 / London)

At Summer's End (August 1914) - Poem by John Scully

Play Poem Video

The muffled-knock of high blown summer,
upon the leaves and grasses August since June,
wrap tightly like bundled flowers,
around the jaundiced seasoned air.

Shaken and solemn the church bells,
under a single sky of coming morn
lonesome, turn the clay-dark hands of time,
while ill-winds blow in gathering storm.

Then in some faraway land, a shot,
far from Englands shore,
under a red scorched earth and bitter sun
an August summer forever gone.


Comments about At Summer's End (August 1914) by John Scully

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, October 11, 2013


[Hata Bildir]