A SONG OF THE FOUR SEASONS.

WHE

HEN Spring comes laughing
By vale and hill,

By wind-flower walking

And daffodil,—

Sing stars of morning,

Sing morning skies,

Sing blue of speedwell,—
And my Love's eyes.

When comes the Summer,

Full-leaved and strong,

And gay birds gossip

The orchard long,

Sing hid, sweet honey
That no bee sips;

Sing red, red roses,

And my Love's lips.

When Autumn scatters

The leaves again,

And piled sheaves bury

The broad-wheeled waîn,

Sing flutes of harvest
Where men rejoice;
Sing rounds of reapers,—
And my Love's voice.

But when comes Winter
With hail and storm,

And red fire roaring

And ingle warm,—

Sing first sad going

Of friends that part;

Then sing glad meeting,—

And my Love's heart.

THE PARADOX OF TIME.

175

THE PARADOX OF TIME.

(A VARIATION ON RONSARD.)

"Le temps s'en va, le temps s'en va, ma dame! Las! le temps non: mais Nous nous en allons!"

IME goes, you say? Ah no!

TIME

Alas, Time stays, we go;

Or else, were this not so, What need to chain the hours, For Youth were always ours? Time goes, you say?—ah no!

Ours is the eyes' deceit

Of men whose flying feet

Lead through some landscape low;

We pass, and think we see

The earth's fixed surface flee :

Alas, Time stays,—we go!

Once in the days of old,

Your locks were curling gold,

And mine had shamed the crow.

Now, in the self-same stage,

We've reached the silver age;

Time goes, you say?—ah no!

Once, when my voice was strong,

I filled the woods with song