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Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1768/Love's Calendar

< Littell's Living Age‎ | Volume 137

Love's Calendar.

A young year's freshness in the air,
     A spring-tide color to the wood;
The flowers in spring-time most are fair,
     And life in spring-time most is good;
For why? - I will not let you hear
     Until the summer is a-near.

A summer all of burning lights
     With crimson roses, passion red,
And moonlight for the hot, white nights,
     And jasmine flowers, sweet, dew-fed.
Why has each rose a double scent?
     You may divine when it is spent.

Autumn with shining yellow sheaves,
     And garnered fruit; and half regret
To watch the dreary falling leaves
     And eaden skies above them set;
And why e'en autumn can seem dear
     Perchance you'll guess, when winter's here.

Winter, in wide, snow-covered plains,
     And drifting sleet, and piercing wind,
That chills the blood within our veins,
     But our warm hearts can never find -
Ah, little love, you guess, I know,
     What warms our hearts in spite of snow.