The Human Seasons

   Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
       There are four seasons in the mind of man:
   He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
       Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
   He has his Summer, when luxuriously
       Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
   To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
       Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
   His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
       He furleth close; contented so to look
   On mists in idleness--to let fair things
       Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
   He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
   Or else he would forego his mortal nature.