These are the days when birds come back

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old, old sophistries of June,
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee!
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till banks[^a1] of seeds their witness bear,
And softly, through the altered air,
Hurries a timid leaf.

[^a1: banks | ranks]

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join!

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to take,
And thine immortal wine!