The Seasons
The year hath first his jocund spring, Wherein the leaves, to birds' sweet carolling, Dance with the wind; then sees the summer's day Perfect the embryon blossom of each spray; Next cometh autumn, when the threshd sheaf Loseth his grain, and every tree his leaf; Lastly, cold winter's rage, with many a storm, Threats the proud pines which Ida's top adorn, And makes the sap leave succourless the shoot, Shrinking to comfort his decaying root. From Britannia's Pastorals.
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"The year hath first his jocund spring,..."
"The Seasons" is a quintessential example of William Browne's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...