The Human Seasons

Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;

There are four seasons in the mind of man :

He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

Takes in all beauty with an easy span;

He has his Summer, when luxuriously

Spring's honey'd 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 in 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 mortal nature.

~John Keats~

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced or cried aloud

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this space of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate

How charged with punishments the scroll

I am the master of my fate;

The captain of my soul.

~William Ernest Henley~

The midi "By The Sea" is used with permission by the composer and is copyrighted 2000 - Bruce DeBoer.

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