Come to me when the earth is fair 
With all the freshness of the spring, 
When life fills all the liquid air,
And when the woods with music ring; 
When all the wakening flowers rejoice, 
And birds remind me of your voice. 

Come to me when the summer's heat 
Is strong the breeze of spring to kill; 
When gardens with perfume are sweet, 
And when the languid noon is still;
Come when the opened buds disclose 
The glory of the full-blown rose. 

Come to me when the summer fades, 
When all the rose's sweets are dead, 
When autumn robes the saddening glades, 
When purple heather turns to red; 
Come to me when the wrinkled leaf 
Falls like the tear of constant grief. 

Come chiefly when all warmth is lost,
When autumn to stern winter yields; 
Come when the bitter edge of frost 
Shrouds all the verdure of the fields; 
Come when all else is dark and drear, 
Thy presence then is doubly dear.