FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man: He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists in idleness -- to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his mortal nature. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL FESTE'S SONG (1), FR. TWELFTH NIGHT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HUMAN FLIES by KATHARINE ADAMS GOD'S ACRE by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN ON THE CAUSE, CONSQUENCE AND CURE OF SPIRITUAL PRIDE by JOHN BYROM |