Friendship After Love

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
 Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
 In the intensity of its own fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
 So after Love has led us, till he tires
 Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
 Comes large-eyed Friendship: with a restful gaze.
He beckons us to follow, and across
 Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
 Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.