The Circling Year by Ramona Graham

The joys of living wreathe my face,
My heart keeps time to freshet’s race;
Of balmy airs I drink my fill—
Why, there’s a yellow daffodil!
Along the stream a soft green tinge
Gives hint of feathery willow fringe;
Methinks I heard a Robin’s “Cheer”—
I’m glad Spring’s here!

An afternoon of buzzing flies.
Heat waves that sear, and quivering rise;
The long white road, the plodding team,
The deep, cool grass in which to dream;
The distant cawing of the crows,
Tall, waving grain, long orchard rows;
The peaceful cattle in the stream—
Midsummer’s dream!

A cold, gray day, a lowering sky,
A lonesome pigeon wheeling by;
The soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades,
The shivering crane that flaps and wades;
Dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree,
The peace the river sings to me;
The chill aloofness of the Fall—
I love it all!

A sheet of ice, the ring of steel,
The crunch of snow beneath the heel;
Loud, jingling bells, the straw-lined sleigh,
A restless pair that prance and neigh;
The early coming of the night,
Red glowing logs, a shaded light;
The firelit realm of books is mine—
Oh, Winter’s fine!

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