Now to wonder, and thereafter to the sunny storm of laughter

Loud and low—

Sights engraven on storied pages where man's tale of seven swift ages

All was told—

Seen of eyes yet bright from heaven—for the lips that laughed were seven

Sweet years old.

334 X

334

Why should May remember

March, if March forget

The days that began with December

The nights that a frost could fret?

All their griefs are done with

Now the bright months bless

Fit souls to rejoice in the sun with,

Fit heads for the wind's caress;

Souls of children quickening

With the whole world's mirth,

Heads closelier than field-flowers thickening

That crowd and illuminate earth,

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