"He has lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span:"
"He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves"
"His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists of idleness—to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook."
"He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his moral nature."
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