Lesson:

By Lucy Larcom





1. Father Time, your footsteps go


Lightly as the falling snow.


In your swing I'm sitting, see!


Push me softly; one, two, three,


Twelve times only. Like a sheet,


Spread the snow beneath my feet.


Singing merrily, let me swing


Out of winter into spring.





2. Swing me out, and swing me in!


Trees are bare, but birds begin


Twittering to the peeping leaves,


On the bough beneath the eaves.


Wait,—one lilac bud I saw.


Icy hillsides feel the thaw.


April chased off March today;


Now I catch a glimpse of May,





3. Oh, the smell of sprouting grass I


In a blur the violets pass.


Whispering from the wildwood come


Mayflower's breath and insect's hum.


Roses carpeting the ground;


Thrushes, orioles, warbling sound:—


Swing me low, and swing me high,


To the warm clouds of July.





4. Slower now, for at my side


White pond lilies open wide.


Underneath the pine's tall spire


Cardinal blossoms burn like fire.


They are gone; the golden-rod


Flashes from the dark green sod.


Crickets in the grass I hear;


Asters light the fading year.





5. Slower still! October weaves


Rainbows of the forest leaves.


Gentians fringed, like eyes of blue,


Glimmer out of sleety dew.


Meadow green I sadly miss:


Winds through withered sedges hiss.


Oh, 'tis snowing, swing me fast,


While December shivers past!





6. Frosty-bearded Father Time,


Stop your footfall on the rime!


Hard you push, your hand is rough;


You have swung me long enough.


'Nay, no stopping,' say you? Well,


Some of your best stories tell,


While you swing me—gently, do!—


From the Old Year to the New.





DEFINITIONS


Twittering: Making a succession of small, chirping noises.


Glimpse: A short, hurried view.


Blur: A dim, confused appearance.


Rime: White frost, hoarfrost.