It looked like a crown for the Queen of May.
And while he was going, I heard him sing,
"O seize the garland of passing _Spring!_"
But I dared not reach, for the bank was steep;
And he bore it away, to the far off deep!

There came, then, a lady;--her eye was bright--
She was young and fair, and her bark was light;
Its mast was a living tree, that spread
Its boughs for a sail, o'er the lady's head.
And some of its fruits had just begun
To flush, on the side that was next the sun;
And some with the crimson streak were stained;
While others their size had not yet gained.
In passing she cried, "Oh! who can insure
The fruits of _Summer_ to get mature?
For, fast as the waters beneath me flowing,
Beyond recall, I'm going! I'm going!"

I turned my eye, and beheld another,
That seemed as she might be Summer's mother.
She looked more grave; while her cheek was tinged
With a deeper brown; and her bark was fringed
With the tasselled heads of the wheaten sheaves
Along its sides; and the yellow leaves,
That had covered the deck concealed a throng
Of _Crickets!_--I knew by their choral song.
And at _Autumn's_ feet lay the golden corn,
While her hands were raised, to invert a horn
That was filled with a sweet and mellow store,