In spring and summer winds may blow, <br />And rains fall after, hard and fast; <br />The tender leaves, if beaten low, <br />Shine but the more for shower and blast <br /> <br />But when their fated hour arrives, <br />When reapers long have left the field, <br />When maidens rifle turn'd-up hives, <br />And their last juice fresh apples yield, <br /> <br />A leaf perhaps may still remain <br />Upon some solitary tree, <br />Spite of the wind and of the rain . . . <br />A thing you heed not if you see. <br /> <br />At last it falls. Who cares? Not one: <br />And yet no power on earth can ever <br />Replace the fallen leaf upon <br />Its spray, so easy to dissever. <br /> <br />If such be love, I dare not say. <br />Friendship is such, too well I know: <br />I have enjoyed my summer day; <br />'Tis past; my leaf now lies below.<br /><br />Walter Savage Landor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-spring-and-summer-winds-may-blow/
