"Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,     Ripening fields lush- bright with promise; Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing     Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn." -  Michelle L. Thieme, August's Crown  Ah, Sun-flower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done: Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my Sun-flower wishes to go. -  William Blake