It comes on the wings of all the seasons
We all know what it is, this thing
It needs no rhyme, nor has it reason
We all know what it brings
In springtime snowdrifts melt away
To bloom out new again
In summer time the blooms are gone
And so is all the rain
On autumn days the sun is gone
And the leaves fall mournfully
With winter's touch the green is gone
And the leaves from all the trees
And still, in this new season,
When all is clothed in white
You know it will just be gone again
The next time you open your eyes
In the differing days of all of these,
They share a trait, just one:
With every change a season brings,
It always will be gone...

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