What May Come

it reads:
And summer comes by degrees,
The dark months receding
The bean-pole's rise decrees
May's soon to be greeting
My mind returns to other Mays
For the month of may-have-been
Is so named, in other ways
For other reasons I have seen
But how am I not like the world
In twelve-months so dressed,
A soul spiral like-curled
Round about its nothingness?

Hear then, this month does remind
Of every would-be and could
Weddings and adventures in kind
Opportunity tells one he should
But how we forget - like gentle earth
The scars of winter, the heat of June
Refreshed as through new birth
Our innocence regained so soon;
Only to be stolen - unless we regret
And become not merely innocent
A boon for its time and yet
For our labors, insufficient.

And the wheel of the mind turns slow
And forgetfulness is sweet repose
Oh! Woe to he who might know
Woe to him whose wisdom grows
Who remembers these old things
Who contemplates in this age
To he whose mind finds wings
To he whom would be a sage
But as labor is man's own lot
To toil with thorns and tears
To turn away from woe is not
To ever escape these doom'd years.

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