Spring, summer, autumn! priestesses that hold
Alternate watch at nature's altar! Deep
And full of mystery the course ye keep
In hidden sympathy. First, chastely cold,
Thou, vestal spring, most gently dost unfold
The oracles of nature, and from sleep
Enchanted bid her infant beauties peep.
Thou, summer, dost inscribe in living gold
The fullness of each promise sibylline,
And makest in part the bright fruition thine,
Murmuring soft music from her leafy fane:
Till autumn's stores reveal in corn and wine
The meaning shut in every bud and grain.
Then comes the solemn pause which calls spring back again.