something to see

in what close view we may see our desire
none now can tell nor what the way's to be
it does not take us to some rustic lea
nor do we hear the hum along the wire
there's no tune here for harp or lute or lyre
each path is blocked by a green leafy tree
no elves hide here or none that we can see
this is a season both of rain and fire
a wind that passes would bring all relief
our spring is short for summer quickly comes
the end of duty marks no change of state
in every moment mingle joy and grief
they add up every time into vast sums
yet there's no danger we will arrive late