Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve, <br />My summer and my winter, spring and fall; <br />For Nature left on thee a touch of all <br />The moods that come to gladden or to grieve <br />The heart of Time, with purpose to relieve <br />From lagging sameness. So do these forestall <br />In thee such o'erheaped sweetnesses as pall <br />Too swiftly, and the taster tasteless leave. <br />Scenes that I love to me always remain <br />Beautiful, whether under summer sun <br />Beheld, or, storm-dark, stricken across with rain. <br />So, through all humors, thou 'rt the same sweet one: <br />Doubt not I love thee well in each, who see <br />Thy constant change is changeful constancy.<br /><br />George Parsons Lathrop<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lover-s-year/
