A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS
WHEN Spring comes laughing
By vale and hill,
By wind-flower walking
Sing stars of morning,
Sing morning skies,
Sing blue of Speedwell,—
And my Love’s eyes.
When comes the Summer,
Full-leaved and strong,
And gay birds gossip
The orchard long,—
Sing hid, sweet honey
That no bee sips;
Sing red, red roses,—
And my love’s lips.
When Autumn scatters
The leaves again,
And piled sheaves bury
The broad-wheeled wain,—
Sing flutes of harvest
Where men rejoice;
Sing rounds of reapers,—
And my Love’s voice.
But when comes winter
With hail and storm,
And red fire roaring
And ingle warm,—
Sing first sad going
Of friends that part;
Then sing glad meeting,—
And my Love’s heart.
Austin Dobson.