Poems (Sharpless)/The Seasons

by Frances M. Sharpless

For works with similar titles, see The Seasons.

THE SEASONS

Lo! the sweet voice of Spring,
 Joyous awakener!
Calling the birds to sing,
 Making the dull sap stir;
Until all clad in green,
 Nature rejoices,
And fills each budding scene
 With myriad voices.

Then with mild, dreamy eyes,
 Beautiful Summer
Glows with the glad surprise
 Of welcomes poured on her.
Kissing the flowers to fruit;
 Pouring her life abroad,
Until no spot is mute—
 Barren, no wayside sod.

Autumn, more stately, slow,
 Rich in her royal robes,
Doth the fruition show
 Of all Spring's blooming hopes.
Then Winter, cold and pale,
 Folds to her quiet breast
Earth, 'neath a snowy veil,
 Whispering, " Rest."