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.

January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
read more

January grey is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

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.

Spring is God's way of saying, 'One more time!'

Spring is God's way of saying, 'One more time!'

Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower

Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower

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.

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer read more

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come

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.