WHAT do the changing seasons bring?
Full nests the storms will render mute,
And blossoms over-thick for fruit;
Too soft a breeze, too blue a sky,
A day the morrow shall deny:
The fickle, fair, delusive Spring!
What do the flying seasons bring?
The tumult of the thronging sense;
The leaping blood, untamed, intense;
A fire that strikes through heart and brain;
A fierce delight that grows to pain,
And Summer bloom that hides a sting !
What do the passing seasons bring?
Ripe fruit that withers in its prime;
Strong grain that drops at harvest-time;
The splendid colors of decay;
The fever-wasted Autumn day
In its gay mantle shivering!
What do the fleeting seasons bring ?
A lifeless desert, pale and vast,
With frozen silence overcast;
Forgotten dreams of long-ago
Buried beneath the Winter snow —
And, far beyond, a hope of Spring!
Kate Putnam Osgood.