The crops which Spring time planted—
The consummation of the Summer's growing time—
Now ripen, waiting harvest.Now Autumn comes as life on earth draws close:
The choices when in youth time planted—
The maturity of all living, zest, and thrill—
Now ripen, waiting repercussion.
See Autumn comes with colors round its head resplendent:
Colors crown its trees and leaves and landscaped hills—
Crispness etches round each breath and turn and morn—
And crowns the year with glory.
Come Autumn now upon the hoary head with splendor:
Youth-time hues retreat to fields of white—
Silver hairs and graying beardscrown erstwhile callowness with sage—
And wisdom comes to brimful bloom.
But in the Spring time did you plant good seeds?
In the midst of Summer's carefree luxuries,
Did you tend your crops and pull the weeds?
For harvest comes all based on toil.
And in the season of your youth and vigor,
Sowed you seeds that counted life and good?
And tended them with careful watching forward?
So harvesting would yield a crop of gold?
- D. Benning
