Classic Poem

The seasons come, and the seasons go—
Winter begins them, white with snow;
Then Spring steals on, with her wayward grace,
And the glad world smiles to see her face,
Till Summer, her rival, warms the day,
And the year's proud Queen holds regal sway—
But Autumn follows, and roses die,
And birds fly Southward, and sad winds sigh.

So is our life, with its changeful days—
Shadow and sunlight, and blame and praise—
Its seasons come, and its seasons go—
But God is Our Father—'t is all we know.