noon
No shining belt or gleaming moon , no red and green glory in a self-encircling twin-star , but has a relation with the hidden things of a man 's soul , and , it may be , with the secret history of his body as well . They are portions of the living house wherein he abides . Through the realms of the monarch Sun Creeps a world , whose course had begun , On a weary path with a weary pace , Before the Earth sprang forth on her race : But many a time the Earth had sped Around the path she still must tread , Ere the elder planet , on leaden wing , Once circled the court of the planet 's king . There , in that lonely and distant star , The seasons are not as our seasons are ; But many a year hath Autumn to dress The trees in their matron loveliness ; As long hath old Winter in triumph to go O'er beauties dead in his vaults below ; And many a year the Spring doth wear Combing the icicles from her hair ; And Summer , dear Summer , hath years of June , With large white clouds , and cool showers at noon : And a beauty that grows to a weight like grief , Till a burst of tears is the heart 's relief . Children , born when Winter is king , May never rejoice in the hoping Spring ; Though their own heart-buds are bursting with joy , And the child hath grown to the girl or boy ; But may die with cold and icy hours Watching them ever in place of flowers . And some who awake from their primal sleep , When the sighs of Summer through forests creep , Live , and love , and are loved again ; Seek for pleasure , and find its pain ; Sink to their last , their forsaken sleeping , With the same sweet odours around them creeping . Now the children , there , are not born as the children are born in worlds nearer to the sun .