 | Songs in the Whirlwind |  |
A SONG OF THE SEASONS.
God gave to us four seasons fair,
Four seasons of delight;
There's Spring with music in the air,
When all the world seems bright:
With blossoms blowing on the trees
To fairy airs and fresh'ning breeze,
And singing of the birds.
Four seasons of delight;
There's Spring with music in the air,
When all the world seems bright:
With blossoms blowing on the trees
To fairy airs and fresh'ning breeze,
And singing of the birds.
There's silent Summer all aglow
With fields of golden corn;
And liquid melodies that flow
To greet the rising dawn;
And gentle rain like silver strings
Of harps that sing of heavenly things,
And roses red and white.
With fields of golden corn;
And liquid melodies that flow
To greet the rising dawn;
And gentle rain like silver strings
Of harps that sing of heavenly things,
And roses red and white.
7
There's beauteous Autumn's golden dreams,
Her rivulets and rills,
And harvestide's full moon that beams
On purple mist-crowned hills;
When all earth's carpet of brown leaves
Rustles and sighs, and gently heaves
Beneath each breathing wind.
Her rivulets and rills,
And harvestide's full moon that beams
On purple mist-crowned hills;
When all earth's carpet of brown leaves
Rustles and sighs, and gently heaves
Beneath each breathing wind.
There's white-robed Winter's purity,
When all the birds have flown,
With snowflakes sighing sympathy
Lest we should feel alone;
The pageantry of glistening earth,
The wizardry of Winter's mirth,
'Twas given us all by God.
When all the birds have flown,
With snowflakes sighing sympathy
Lest we should feel alone;
The pageantry of glistening earth,
The wizardry of Winter's mirth,
'Twas given us all by God.
| Songs in the Whirlwind | |