Now that May's call musters

Files of baby bands

To marshal in joyfuller clusters

Than the flowers that encumber their hands.

Yet morose November

Found them no less gay,

With nought to forget or remember

Less bright than a branch of may.

335 All the seasons moving

335

Move their minds alike

Applauding, acclaiming, approving

All hours of the year that strike.

So my heart may fret not,

Wondering if my friend

Remember me not or forget not

Or ever the month find end.

Not that love sows lighter

Seed in children sown,

But that life being lit in them brighter

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