This curly childhood of the year, These days of dancing blood – Is Spring the proper time for breath To be resigned for good? When Summer's face is bright and clear, And all the trees are green – Shall I believe the time has come To creep away unseen? When Autumn shuffles leaves of gold, And deals them in one heap – Must I agree that that's the hour For everlasting sleep? And when the world is white with snow, With Winter in his prime – I'll still maintain that Death's a fool, That knows no place or time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POET AND THE BABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK ON THE KING'S ILLNESS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AT THE VILLAGE DEPOT by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY COMPANIONSHIP AT NIGHT by AGNES STEWART BECK THE ROMAUNT OF MARGRET by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |