Fruition

Let thy life be like the day,
Dying ‘mid the sunset’s roses—
Fairest when about thy way
Death’s eternal shadow closes;
Let it be like summer time,
Season of supernal splendor!
Full of promises divine,
Love, and joy, and music tender;
Like the autumn let it be,
When the world’s aglow with beauty—
Rich with golden sheaves, for thee
Ripened in the field of Duty.