The Seasons of Love.

A poem by George Pope Morris

The spring-time of love
Is both happy and gay,
For joy sprinkles blossoms
And balm in our way;
The sky, earth, and ocean,
In beauty repose,
And all the bright future
Is COLEUR DE ROSE.

The summer of love
Is the bloom of the heart,
When hill, grove, and valley,
Their music impart;
And the pure glow of heaven
Is seen in fond eyes,
As lakes show the rainbow
That's hung in the skies.

The autumn of love
Is the season of cheer--
Life's mild Indian summer,
The smile of the year!
Which comes when the golden
Ripe harvest is stored,
And yields its own blessings--
Repose and reward.

The winter of love
Is the beam that we win
While the storm scowls without,
From the sunshine within.
Love's reign is eternal--
The heart is his throne,
And he has all seasons
Of life for his own.

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