Explore "It is the Season" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
IT is the season now to go / About the country high and low, / Among the lilacs hand in hand, / And two by two in fairy land.
The brooding boy, the sighing maid, / Wholly fain and half afraid, / Now meet along the hazel'd brook / To pass and linger, pause and look.
A year ago, and blithely paired, / Their rough-and-tumble play they shared; / They kissed and quarrelled, laughed and cried, / A year ago at Eastertide.
With bursting heart, with fiery face, / She strove against him in the race; / He unabashed her garter saw, / That now would touch her skirts with awe.
Now by the stile ablaze she stops, / And his demurer eyes he drops; / Now they exchange averted sighs / Or stand and marry silent eyes.
And he to her a hero is / And sweeter she than primroses; / Their common silence dearer far / Than nightingale and mavis are.
Now when they sever wedded hands, / Joy trembles in their bosom-strands / And lovely laughter leaps and falls / Upon their lips in madrigals.