AUTUMN

Autumn's hair is falling,
Brown, yellow and fading green.
He is flying in the wind,
Happiness in his heart.
Father sun pushes his left cheek playfully
And he becomes part of his warmth.
He glides to Mother Winter
And feels her gentle frost.
She wraps her arms around him protectively.
He buries his face in her soft white snow.

by Adrián, aged 7 and a half.

 

 

 

 

 

 

SPRING IS IN THE AIR!

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

William Wordsworth, 1798

Lines Written in Early Spring