Classic Poem

(To R. S.)

O Spring and Summer meet
In thy young heart to-day;
And Spring is fresh and sweet,
With dainty dancing feet,
And lips that laugh alway.

And Summer is serene,
Mature, and debonnaire,
And cometh like a queen
Attired in gold and green
With roses in her hair.

They meet. They curtsy low —
Grave Summer, laughing Spring, —
Then hand in hand they go
To garner and to sow,
To labour and to sing.

Lo, Spring can scatter yet
The seeds your hopes desire —
Daisy and mignonette,
Lily and violet,
And rose with heart of fire.

And Summer can fulfil,
From bud to perfect bloom,
Whatever flower you will
Of meadow or of hill,
Of sunlight or of gloom.

Thy life is thine to make,
O happy, happy thou!
What seed will Springtime take,
What buds will Summer wake,
'Tis time to order now.

Both Spring and Summer wait
Thy bidding and decree,
Thou hast the seeds of Fate,
The infinite estate
Of all eternity.