The Daughter Of The Year

 Nature, when she made thee, dear,
Begged the treasures of the year.

For thy cheeks, all pink and white,
Spring gave apple blossoms light;
Summer, for thy matchless eyes,
Gave the azure of her skies;
Autumn spun her gold and red
In a mass of silken thread—
Gold and red and sunlight rare
For the wonder of thy hair!
Surly Winter would impart
But his coldness, for thy heart.


Dearest, let the love I bring
Turn thy Winter into Spring.

What are Summer, Spring and Fall,
If thy Winter chills them all?

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