The Year Outgrows The Spring.

From the dawn of spring till the year grows hoary,
    Nothing is new that is done or said,
The leaves are telling the same old story -
    "Budding, bursting, dying, dead."
And ever and always the wild bird's chorus
    Is "coming, building, flying, fled."

Never the round earth roams or ranges
    Out of her circuit, so old, so old,
And the smile o' the sun knows but these changes -
    Beaming, burning, tender, cold,
As Spring time softens or Winter estranges
    The mighty heart of this orb of gold.

From our great sire's birth to the last morn's breaking
    There were tempest, sunshine, fruit and frost,
And the sea was calm or the sea was shaking
    His mighty main like a lion crossed,
And ever this cry the heart was making -
    Longing,...

To each progressive soul there comes a day
    When all things that have pleased and satisfied
Grow flavourless, the springs of joy seem dried.
    No more the waters of youth's fountains play;
Yet out of reach, tiptoeing as they may,
    The more mature and higher pleasures hide.
Life, like a careless nurse, fails to provide
    New toys for those the soul has cast away.

Upon a strange land's border all alone,
    Awhile it stands dismayed and desolate.
Nude too, since its old garments are outgrown;
    Till clothed with strength befitting its estate,
It grasps at length those raptures that are known
    To souls who learn to labour, and to wait.

Through the sunshine, and through the rain
    Of these changing days of mist and splendour,
I see the face of a year-old pain
    Looking at me with a smile half tender.

With a smile half tender, and yet all sad,
    Into each hour of the mild September
It comes, and finding my life grown glad
    Looks down in my eyes, and says 'Remember.'

Says 'Remember,' and points behind
    To days of sorrow, and tear-wet lashes;
When joy lay dead and hope was blind,
    And nothing was left but dust and ashes.

Dust and ashes and vain regret,
    Flames fanned out, and the embers falling.
But the sun of the saddest day must set,
    And hope wakes ever with Springtime's calling.

With Springtime's calling the pulses thrill;
    And the heart i...

        Changed? Yes, I will confess it - I have changed.
    I do not love in the old fond way.
        I am your friend still - time has not estranged
    One kindly feeling of that vanished day.

        But the bright glamour which made life a dream,
    The rapture of that time, its sweet content,
        Like visions of a sleeper's brain they seem -
    And yet I cannot tell you how they went.

        Why do you gaze with such accusing eyes
    Upon me, dear? Is it so very strange
        That hearts, like all things underneath God's skies
    Should sometimes feel the influence of change?

        The birds, the flowers, the foliage of the trees,
    The stars which seem so fixed and so sublime,
        Vast continents and the eternal seas -
...

In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,
    When the green was showing on tree and hedge,
And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding
    The world from zenith to outermost edge,
My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!
    I sighed for the season of sun and rose,
And I said, "In the Summer and that time only
    Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."

With bee and bird for her maids of honour
    Came Princess Summer in robes of green.
And the King of day smiled down upon her
    And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.
Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,
    Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,
And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges
    Like royal children in sportive play.

My restless soul for a little sea...

In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,
    When the green was showing on tree and hedge,
And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding
    The world from zenith to outermost edge,
My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!
    I sighed for the season of sun and rose,
And I said, "In the Summer and that time only
    Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."

With bee and bird for her maids of honor
    Came Princess Summer in robes of green.
And the King of day smiled down upon her
    And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.
Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,
    Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,
And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges
    Like royal children in sportive play.

My restless soul for a little seas...