The year hath first his jocund spring,
Wherein the leaves, to birds' sweet carolling,
Dance with the wind; then sees the summer's day
Perfect the embryon blossom of each spray;
Next cometh autumn, when the threshë"d sheaf
Loseth his grain, and every tree his leaf;
Lastly, cold winter's rage, with many a storm,
Threats the proud pines which Ida's top adorn,
And makes the sap leave succourless the shoot,
Shrinking to comfort his decaying root.
From Britannia's Pastorals.
The Seasons
William Browne
(2)
Poem topics: autumn, dance, perfect, spring, summer, tree, wind, winter, sweet, storm, cold, year, comfort, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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