 | Lays and Legends |  |
I
While baby Spring sticks daisies in her hair,
Or Summer laughs with flushed triumphant face.
We crush our heart rebellious at earth's grace,
And smile ‘How, like the season, life is fair!’
But when the last leaf falls in the dull air,
And skies grow pale, and fields lie lost a space,
Ere their first furrow ploughs begin to trace,
And pastures shiver desolate and bare—
Or Summer laughs with flushed triumphant face.
We crush our heart rebellious at earth's grace,
And smile ‘How, like the season, life is fair!’
But when the last leaf falls in the dull air,
And skies grow pale, and fields lie lost a space,
Ere their first furrow ploughs begin to trace,
And pastures shiver desolate and bare—
Oh, then one breathes; at last free from the sway
Of selfish spring—from summer's insolent reign,
One dares to speak the truth—how all life's way
Is blank as autumn skies made grey with rain,
Most blank when most the glad year bade forbear
To mar her grace with our unveiled despair.
Of selfish spring—from summer's insolent reign,
One dares to speak the truth—how all life's way
Is blank as autumn skies made grey with rain,
Most blank when most the glad year bade forbear
To mar her grace with our unveiled despair.
| Lays and Legends | |