 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
299
The Seasons in Passing.
1849.
The seasons, in passing, one sweet moral bring,
And well—if he marked it—would man do;
“Spread pleasure—like me,” is the language of Spring,
“Make all hearts as glad as you can do!”
And well—if he marked it—would man do;
“Spread pleasure—like me,” is the language of Spring,
“Make all hearts as glad as you can do!”
The Summer but varies it: “Make each heart glad,
Treat all with the warmth of affection;
My sun shines alike on the good and the bad,
And shall you dare to think of selection?”
Treat all with the warmth of affection;
My sun shines alike on the good and the bad,
And shall you dare to think of selection?”
The Autumn repeats it: “My stores are for all;
But should one, in the scramble, get favour,
Let him share it with those to whom little may fall,
And what's left will have all the more savour!”
But should one, in the scramble, get favour,
Let him share it with those to whom little may fall,
And what's left will have all the more savour!”
And Winter affirms it—while shaking the door,
And binding the stream with his fetter:
“Keep the cold that I bring, from the hearths of the poor,
And your own will burn brighter and better!”
And binding the stream with his fetter:
“Keep the cold that I bring, from the hearths of the poor,
And your own will burn brighter and better!”
So speaks every Season that comes and departs,
To the bosoms of all men appealing—
Alas, that it touches so few of our hearts!
That so many continue unfeeling!
To the bosoms of all men appealing—
Alas, that it touches so few of our hearts!
That so many continue unfeeling!
What a world it would be, if—less mindful of pelf—
We esteemed every neighbour a brother;
And if each, while he did a bit good for himself,
Did a little bit, too, for another!
We esteemed every neighbour a brother;
And if each, while he did a bit good for himself,
Did a little bit, too, for another!
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