Some would have Spring within the heart,
But I, some mellow month in mine
Like old October: flowers depart,
And even youth must resign —
But always, brothers, there are some
To whom no Winters ever come:
Always October skies are theirs,
Even amid life’s wintry cares.
And I would have my soul look the same:
I cannot keep the look of youth,
But how October maples flame —
Age takes our beauty, gives us truth,
Age takes our wit, and makes us wise,
Age gives us life’s October skies
And old October’s mellower days,
A better time a thousand ways.
God make me mellow! Make me not
Sudden as Summer, brief as Spring.
I would not blow too cold, too hot,
I would keep kind through ev’rything.
I may give others less than flow’rs
Of flattery, but in their hours
Of grief, of trouble and of need
May I bring rather fruits to feed.
© Douglas Malloch