On my mind...and in my front yard...

 Spring and Fall: 

to a Young Child

 Margaret, are you grieving
   Over Goldengrove unleaving? 

 
   Leaves, like the things of man, you
   With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

 

 Ah! as the heart grows older
   It will come to such sights colder 

   By and by, nor spare a sigh
   Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
   And yet you will weep and know why. 

   Now no matter, child, the name:
   Sorrow's springs are the same.
   Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
   What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed: 

   It is the blight man was born for,
   It is Margaret you mourn for.  

 

by Gerard Manley Hopkins