Classic Poem

All faces melt in smiles and tears,
Stirr'd up by many a passion strange,
(Likings, loathings, wishes, fears,)
Till death:—then ends all change.
Then king and peasant, bride and nun,
Wear but one!

Spring, all beauty, aye laughs loud;
Summers smile, and Autumns rave;
But Winter puts on his white shroud,
And lies down in his grave;
And when the next soft season nears,
He disappears!

Merry Spring for childish face;
Summer for young manhood bold;
Autumn for a graver race;
Winter for the old!
After that,—what seasons run?
Alas! not one!

Then all the changing passions fade;
Then all the seasons strange have pass'd;
And over spreads one boundless shade,
Which must for ever last:
Then Life's uncounted sands are run,
And—all is done!