Winter is cold-hearted, Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weathercock Blown every way. Summer days for me When every leaf is on its tree; When Robin's not a beggar And Jenny Wren's a bride, And larks hang singing, singing, singing, Over the wheat-fields wide, And anchored lilies ride, And the pendulum spider Swings from side to side; And blue-black beetles transact business, And gnats fly in a host, And furry caterpillars hasten That no time be lost, And moths grow fat and thrive, And ladybirds arrive. Before green apples blush, Before green nuts embrown, Why one day in the country Is worth a month in town; Is worth a day and a year Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion That days drone elsewehere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUNG GLASS-STAINER by THOMAS HARDY IN EARLIEST SPRING by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS THE IDEA by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON THE ETERNAL GOODNESS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER WRITTEN ON THE LEAVES OF A FAN by FRANCIS ATTERBURY |