It’s finally, truly spring! There have been little hints along the way. At first it’s the weather, just a little warmer with a lot of rain. Then the buds pop out from trees and bushes, one by one until the depressing black trees have the tiniest hint of color. It doesn’t really feel like spring in Michigan until April. I can even smell the change!
Spring is so short. It’s almost like a short waiting period just before spring. If it were up to me I would extend the whole season by at least a month. So in the spirit of spring, I searched through my primary documentation for something that would keep that feeling alive.
I found this poem in The Liberator, an abolitionist newspaper published in the mid 19th century. I’m especially fond of the lack of author, only noted as “a German who died in 1676” With publishing laws a bit more lenient than today, I’m wondering if that is the actual case, or if there was an author who didn’t want their name published. Regardless, it’s an adorable reminder to enjoy the season!
The Liberator, December 18, 1840
In fair Spring' s fresh-budding hours,
What adorns our garden-bowers?
Little flowers.
When departing Spring we mourn,
What is shed from Summer's horn?
Hay and corn.
What is Autumn's bounteous sign—
Mark of Providence divine?
Fruit and wine.
When old Winter, hobbling slow,
Comes, what do we gain— d'ye know?
Ice and snow.
Hay and corn, and little flowers,
Ice, snow, fruit and wine are ours,
Given to us every year,
By Spring , Summer, Autumn, Winter,
As they each in turn appear.
Spring gives treasure, Summer pleasures,
Autumn gladdens, Winter saddens,
Spring revives, Summer thrives,
Autumn pleases, Winter freezes.
Therefore, friends, we all have reason
To extol each coming season ;
Spring and Summer, Autumn, Winter,
Honor counsel, deeds sublime,
Are the precious gifts of Time.
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