Season of snows, and season of flowers,
Seasons of loss and gain!--
Since grief and joy must alike be ours,
Why do we still complain?

Ever our failing, from sun to sun,
O my intolerent brother:--
We want just a little too little of one,
And much too much of the other.

James Whitcomb Riley

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-plaint-human/