The Four Sisters

Fair lady spring when buds appear,
of blushing youth, a darling dear.
Her reign adorned in gowns of green
and blest the joys when she is seen.

Hail summer’s queen in regal sways
through splendour’s grace and glory days.
Her golden hair ‘neath veils of blue,
bestowing light on morning dew.

Comes autumn’s lass a losing hope,
she fears the tightening icy rope.
With no escape, herself deceives,
to chasing winds in falling leaves.

Cold winter’s wench in naked stride
on icy breaths her armies ride.
She pities not, she’s cruel a beast
and done her rule when all deceased.

Ye sisters all in season’s coil,
the art of life from soil to spoil.
From seed to sprout to bloom and fade, 
in death depart, with time, decayed.