LOVE’S SEASONS.

Love came to my heart with the earliest swallow, The lark’s blithe matins and breath of Spring; With hyacinth-bell and with budding sallow, And all the promise the year could bring. Love dwelt in my heart while the Summer roses Poured forth their incense on every hand; And from wood and meadow and garden-closes The sweet bird-voices made glad the land. Love grew in my heart to its full fruition When Autumn lavished her gifts untold, And answered earth’s myriad-voiced petition With orchard-treasure and harvest-gold. Love waned in my heart when the snows were shaken From Winter’s hand o’er the rose’s bed; And never again shall my soul awaken At Hope’s glad summons—for Love lies dead. W. P. W.