Why am I cast down
  and despondently sad
 When I long to be happy
 and joyous and glad?
 Why is my heart heavy
 with unfathomable weight
  As I try to escape
 this soul-saddened state?

 I ask myself often---
"What makes life this way,
 Why is the song silenced
 in the heart that was gay?"
 and then with God's help
 it all becomes clear,
The soul has its seasons
just the same as the year---

I too must pass through
life's autumn of dying,
A desolate period
of heart-hurt and crying,
Followed by winter
in whose frostbitten hand
My heart is as frozen
as the snow-covered land---

Yes, man too must pass
through the seasons God sends,
Content in the knowledge
that everything ends,
And, oh, what a blessing
to know there the reasons
And to find that our soul
must, too, have its seasons---

Bounteous seasons
and barren ones, too,
Times for rejoicing
and times to be blue,
But meeting these seasons
of dark desolation
With strength that is born
of anticipation
That comes from knowing
that "autumn-time sadness
Will surely be followed
by a "springtime of gladness."

 Helen Steiner Rice