Classic Poem

The spring has gone. And I have lost the flowers
I might have gathered from its meadow-grass.
I merely marked the sudden spring aspire
Up through the turf in frost and golden fire,
And, as I dallied, saw that glory pass
As swiftly as the rainbow of June showers.
Ah, maiden beauty, fleeting are thy hours!

Summer has gone. And I have missed the gleaning
I might have gathered from its harvest-field.
I merely marked the flaming wheat-waves swaying
Across the leas where summer winds were playing;
But as I gazed, time seized that yellow yield
And fate forestalled my frantic intervening —
Ah, love, at last I know thy tragic meaning!

Autumn has come. Bare stubbled prairies taunt me
In my sad brooding on what might have been.
Across the sky the haggard mists are weaving
A fog-shroud for the dying sun's receiving;
And fears of these dark days, bereavement's keen
Heart-hunger and deep thirst of spirit haunt me.
Alas, the terrors of love's winter daunt me!