Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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THOUGHT ON THE SEASONS

          FLATTERED with promise of escape
            From every hurtful blast,
          Spring takes, O sprightly May! thy shape,
            Her loveliest and her last.

          Less fair is summer riding high
            In fierce solstitial power,
          Less fair than when a lenient sky
            Brings on her parting hour.

          When earth repays with golden sheaves
            The labours of the plough,                                10
          And ripening fruits and forest leaves
            All brighten on the bough;

          What pensive beauty autumn shows,
            Before she hears the sound
          Of winter rushing in, to close
            The emblematic round!

          Such be our Spring, our Summer such;
            So may our Autumn blend
          With hoary Winter, and Life touch,
            Through heaven-born hope, her end!                        20
                                                              1829.


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