Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, read more

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall,
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Of if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

Indoors or out, no one relaxes in March, that month of wind and taxes, the wind will presently disappear, the read more

Indoors or out, no one relaxes in March, that month of wind and taxes, the wind will presently disappear, the taxes last us all the year.

And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over your read more

And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over your fields and you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, read more

Autumn to winter, winter into spring,
Spring into summer, summer into fall,--
So rolls the changing year, and so we change;
Motion so swift, we know not that we move.

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.

In a way winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen, the resurge of nature.

In a way winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen, the resurge of nature.

Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden read more

Our seasons have no fixed returns,
Without our will they come and go;
At noon our sudden summer burns,
Ere sunset all is snow.

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never read more

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.