THOUGHT ON THE SEASONS
FLATTERED with promise of escape From every hurtful blast, Spring takes, O sprightly May! thy shape, Her loveliest and her last. Less fair is summer riding high In fierce solstitial power, Less fair than when a lenient sky Brings on her parting hour. When earth repays with golden sheaves The labours of the plough, 10 And ripening fruits and forest leaves All brighten on the bough; What pensive beauty autumn shows, Before she hears the sound Of winter rushing in, to close The emblematic round! Such be our Spring, our Summer such; So may our Autumn blend With hoary Winter, and Life touch, Through heaven-born hope, her end! 20 1829.