i. Spring

 

The joy that springs as dormant world revives,

Renewing all that winter’s sleep had lost.

The vivid green that sprouts and quickly thrives,

When freed from chilling chains of snow and frost.

 

The ice begins to melt, the streams to surge

In spate, to swell the rivers to the seas;

They pass, and feed the flowers that emerge,

And succour the renewal of the trees.

 

Then in the wake of this resurgent growth,

The migrant birds come back from their sojourns

To claim their nests, and freshly plight their troth,

And mirror where the young man’s fancy turns.

 

Cold winter casts a soporific shade,

Awakened in the springtime woodland glade.

 

ii. Summer

 

Bright summer slowly filters through from spring;

New life matures to fledge and fly the nest,

To quickly learn what this new life may bring,

And pay the price or bravely pass the test.

 

This is a season born beneath the sun,

Whose light and warmth provide the vital drive,

The strength to grow, to crawl, to fly, to run,

To face the tribulations and survive.

 

For summer time is when the young must grow,

To fortify in readiness for fall,

When coming winter’s what they need to know,

Or perish when the ice and snow hold thrall.

 

High summer is the highlight of the year,

Its bounty when the harvest time is here.

 

iii. Autumn

 

It’s hard to tell when autumn’s in the air;

In truth I take it for the lazy season,

When summer’s here and yet is nearly gone,

But who can measure out its time or reason.

 

The birds still sing from dawn to dusk and more,

And flowers grace the gardens and the fields;

So slow they disappear, and yet before

Too long, we face the fear that winter wields.

 

At last the leaves turn russet, brown and gold,

To signal that the summer now has passed,

And as the season’s final days unfold,

The autumn evenings are with us at last.

 

The shadow of the summer may remain

Till winter walks among us once again.

iv. Winter

 

Now fall has fallen and the trees are bare,

The leaves are gone, and autumn’s course is run;

For all the flocks have flown to who knows where,

To spend the coming winter in the sun.

 

For days grow short as nights grow ever long,

And sun no longer warms, though still it shines;

No more the sound of birds the season’s song,

Now mournful cries of wind and rain defines.

 

The gaudy hues now fade to black and white,

And rain descends to freezing sleet and snow,

As dismal winter starts to gnaw and bite

‘Midst thoughts of Christmas trees and mistletoe.

 

The world of winter withers till it dies,

But in the spring’s renewal it will rise.