Albert Pike

(1809-1891 / USA)

As The Season Come And Go

The fresh young leaves are coming, Dear!
In the genial prime of May;
And the bees in the blooms are humming, Dear,
And the world is glad and gay;
Is gay and glad, in the ripe bright Spring,
Forgetting the Winter-snow;
But Winter again the snows must bring,
As the Seasons ebb and flow;
And so the world goes round in a ring,
As the Seasons come and go.

As the Seasons come and go, and the years
One after another die,
With wan sad faces wet with tears,
And the laugh that ends in a sigh;
In a sigh,—and, sighing, our hopes and joys
Pace after them, sad and slow,
With our manhood's baubles and childhood's toys,
As the Seasons ebb and flow,
Leaving us only the pleasure that cloys,
As the Seasons come and go.
The lads are the fair girls wooing, Dear!
In the rath glad days of Spring,
And the graybeards for young loves suing, Dear!
While the thrushes, mating, sing.
They are wise,—for the Young grow old and gray,
And Time is a fair girl's foe;
And maids are fickle, and men will stray,
As the Seasons ebb and flow;
For Love's Forever is but a day,
As the Seasons come and go.

In the new Love's lap all the old are forgot,
When the mouth new kisses craves;
They are gone, like prayers remembered not,
One after one, like the waves:
On the dead Loves' ashes the live Loves tread,
And into its fires we throw
The false girl's pictures, the tress of the Dead!
As the seasons ebb and flow,
Forgetting the once-sweet lips so red,

As the Seasons come and go.
No! No!—there WERE Loves we CANNOT forget,
Charming faces, forever dear;
Sweet lips, with whose kissing ours tingle yet,
Loving words we shall always hear;
Eyes that we always shall look into,
Whether they love us or no;
Adorations immortal, tender and true,
Though the Seasons ebb and flow;
Immortal, O Darling! as mine for you,
While the Seasons come and go.

Submitted: Monday, February 24, 2014

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