  Sing a song of Spring-time! Catkins by the brook, Adder’s-tongues uncounted, Ferns in every nook; The cataract on the hillside Leaping like a fawn; Sing a song of Spring-time,— Ah, but Spring-time’s gone! Sing a song of Summer! Flowers among the grass, Clouds like fairy frigates, Pools like looking-glass, Moonlight through the branches, Voices on the lawn; Sing a song of Summer,— Ah, but Summer’s gone! Sing a song of Autumn! Grain in golden sheaves, Woodbine’s crimson clusters Round the cottage eaves, Days of crystal clearness, Frosted fields at dawn; Sing a song of Autumn,— Ah, but Autumn’s gone! Sing a song of Winter! North-wind’s bitter chill, Home and ruddy firelight, Kindness and good-will, Hemlock in the churches, Daytime soon withdrawn; Sing a song of Winter,— Ah, but Winter’s gone! Sing a song of loving! Let the seasons go; Hearts can make their gardens Under sun or snow; Fear no fading blossom, Nor the dying day; Sing a song of loving,— That will last for aye! —Elizabeth Roberts Macdonald. By permission of the publishers, L. C. Page & Co., Boston. Striving not to be rich or great, Never questioning fortune or fate, Contented slowly to earn, and wait. |
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