THE MEETING OF THE SEASONS
Twas a clear, Bright Beautiful Starry, Night.³
All nature was decked in the Jewelry bright,
That in Winter hangs from the Lofty Trees
When whistles the cold North-western breeze;
That the Seasons received a summons to call,
Their attendant Months to a new-Years Ball.
The place selected for them to meet,
To dance off the Hours with foot-steps fleet,
Was a Be-decked barn in a lonely Glen,
Far, far away from the Dwellings of Men.
The old Year came--his Brow winkled with Care,
O'er which strayed a few silken locks of Hair;
His Eye was dim--& pale his Face,
And his motions had lost their Youthful grace;
His Form with sad old age was bent
And his Step was faltering as he went
To the Throne with its mantle of sombre eye
Then seated himself with a deep-drawn sigh.
The first who entered that December bright,
Was Spring with her radiant eye of light,
And her pure, unclouded, innocent, brow,
And her Hair in its golden, ivory, flow:
With her Graceful form, and step so fleet,
And voice of cheerie, silvery, sweet,
With her Robe of woven leaves & flowers,
That suited her Form in beautiful showers,
Her Jewels were half-opened Roses fair;
With a drop of Dew gleaming sweetly there.
Her attendants too--fair April with a smile,
Yet a tear in her bright blue Eyes, the while.
And May merry Face and gladsome song,
That she sang so sweet as she danced along.
Then came Summer--whose deep, blue Eyes,
Were beaming soft, as her ever-fair Skies,
With a robe of softest, palest hue,
That ever shaded from violet, blue:
On it a Scarf, that resembled the dye,
When between dark Clouds there's a glimpse of the Sky.
Then August came, July, & gay June,
Mocking her Birds' sweet, gladsome, tune.
Summer advanced bowing with grace,
To the sad old Year--then took her place.
Autumn approached--in those brilliant Eyes,
Sleeps the rich depths, of her Glorious Skies.
Her dark, Hair, by Tresses of Golden, brown
Hung away from her Brow yet easily drawn.
To her changeful Mantle of Crimson & Gold,
Disposed in many a graceful Fold.
There was a proud, majestic grace
In her Queenlike Form, & noble Face,
Of beauty, so superbly bright
That none could gaze on without delight.
The Face of September was pensive & sad,
For the flowers are fading & can she be glad?
Then Winter came in her Mantle of Snow,
And the clear white, beauty of her Brow,
With its Chrystal Gems of changing light,
Dazzling, all with their beauty bright.
Her beauty was as the marble cold,
Like a Form of her arm, Pure, Snow, to behold,
Her attendants each--though with loveliness rare
Were cold & pale, as the Snow-wreaths are,
Then advanced Winter, & the silence broke.
With her sad, Music voice, & this she spoke:
"Good Evening all my sisters bright,
Tis long since we be met, for in our flight,
We cannot linger to smile, or sigh,
But hurrying swiftly we onward fly,
Yet now let us cast our sad thoughts away,
And Let's be happy while we may."
Sweet Music then filled the fragrant air,
And they merrily danced, with no thought or Care.
Till a loud Shriek, they heard then a long, low, moan,
They turned--& the sad old-Year was gone.
Then Tears fell fast from each beautiful Eye,
Till a clear light came streaming brightly by
And turning--their sorrow was changed to Joy,
For a beautiful, innocent, sweet-looking Boy,
In his robes of Gold & Silver light,
And his Wings with precious Gems, bedight,
With his Torch in his hand--he surveyed each Face
And gazed on its beauty with a Smile of Grace
And they said as they parted in the morning Light,
They were never happier than on that night.

¹ For a note on Adams Female Academy, and on Margarette Barker Lerned, see W1100.

² We have dated this from the context, it is obviously a New Year's poem, and possibly dates from Margarette's second year at Adams Female Academy, 1825. It is not known if Margarette composed this poem.

³ The capitalization of the nouns has been transcribed from Margarette's poem.