Spring!
Thou comest in upon the dying breaths of Winter
The sweet fragrance of thy birth
Doth perfume the air
Thy flowers and tree buds please the eye at every Turn
With these art thou truly the Prince of seasons
Life is they governance, O Regent
Spring lambs have thy name
And rightfully so
For from the icy death of Winter
The fair flowers and babes are brought forth in thy auspices
Lilies! Tulips! Honeysuckles!
Oh, how I do love thy beauty, fair Spring
The Sun doth warm me from Winter's chill
And in thy warmth are the seeds of bounty sown
Summer!
Summer, from Spring, thou inherit thine bounty
But thou make it a thing of thine own
For from the seeds and flowers, thou doth bring forth fruit
Indeed, to enjoy thy fruit freshly warmed by the Sun, is joy itself
But thy Sun is, oftentimes, too much to bear
Such, though, is a small price to pay
For all the unbound jubilance of thy long days
Autumn!
When summer wanes
And the days become shorter
Does thy hand guide Death to the world
But from this dying
Art thou, Luthien, more beautiful than any,
Before or after thee
Truly, then, art thou the Handmaiden of the Seasons
Among thy grey skies
Against thy chill breeze
Under the glittering gold, bright yellow and flaming crimson leaves
Like a patchwork of the fairest the eye can behold
Are my favourite sojourns taken
In the wild
Winter!
At thy clarion call, Winter, doth the world sleep
With thy beckon, King of Seasons, the trees wither
But for shame!
For they will behold not thy splendour
When the sun shines upon the snow
And it shimmers so;
That even the stars are jealous
Or when the ice sparkles
Making diamonds blush
They cannot see that even in the sleep of cold
Nature reveals fairness beyond recount
Besides, thy reign, O King, is time
To dress in fanciful garments of coats and scarves
And sip hot chocolates and tea
To sit beside the roaring flame
With one whom I love
And revel in the peace thou bring to the Earth
