TO THE SEASONS
by Meredith Nicholson
Seasons that pass me by in varied mood,As on the impressionable land you leave a trace,Molding sometime a delicate flower’s sweet face,Touching again with green the somber wood,Or drawing all beneath a snowy hood,Am I not worthy as they to have a placeIn your remembrance? Am I made too baseTo know what weed and thorn have understood?Fair vernal time, I need your quickeningEven as the sleeping Earth! O summer heatMake flower and fruit in me that I may bringFull hands to Autumn when above me beatThe serious winds; and Winter, make me strongLike the glad music of your battle song!
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