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Seasons by William Allingham









Seasons

by William Allingham


In Spring-time, the Forest,

In Summer, the Sea,

In Autumn, the Mountains,

In Winter,—ah me!

How gay, the old branches

A-swarm with new buds,

The primrose and bluebell

Fresh-blown in the woods,

All green things unfolding,

Where merry birds sing!

I love in the Woodlands

To wander in Spring.


What joy, when the Sea-waves,

In mirth and in might,

Spread purple in shadow,

Flash white into light!

The gale fills the sail,

And the gull flies away;

In crimson and gold

Sets the long Summer Day.


O pride! on the Mountains

To leave earth below;

The great slopes of heather,

One broad purple glow;

The loud-roaring torrent

Leaps, bound after bound,

To plains of gold Autumn,

With mist creeping round


Ah, Wind, is it Winter?

Yes, Winter is here;

With snow on the meadow,

And ice on the mere.

The daylight is short,

But the firelight is long;

Our skating's good sport;

Then story and song.


In Spring-time, the Forest,

In Summer, the Sea,

In Autumn, the Mountains,—

And Winter has glee.