IN Spring-time, the Forest,
In Summer, the Sea,
In Autumn, the Mountains,
In Winter,— ah me!
How gay, the old branches
A-swarm with new buds,
The primrose and bluebell
Fresh-blown in the woods,
All green things unfolding,
Where merry birds sing!
I love in the Woodlands
To wander in Spring.
What joy, when the Sea-waves,
In mirth and in might,
Spread purple in shadow,
Flash white into light!
The gale fills the sail,
And the gull flies away;
In crimson and gold
Sets the long Summer Day.
O pride! on the Mountains
To leave earth below;
The great slopes of heather,
One broad purple glow;
The loud-roaring torrent
Leaps, bound after bound,
To plains of gold Autumn,
With mist creeping round
Ah, Wind, is it Winter?
Yes, Winter is here;
With snow on the meadow,
And ice on the mere.
The daylight is short,
But the firelight is long;
Our skating's good sport;
Then story and song.
In Spring-time, the Forest,
In Summer, the Sea,
In Autumn, the Mountains,—
And Winter has glee.