keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream
his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile
Scorning the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through  dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain
Septembering arms of year extend
Yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
Than he to foolish and to wise
Offered immeasurable is
Again,  nature is given human-like traits –in this situation, September. The poem opened with  April  (Spring), touched on  summer , and now it is September (autumn). The speaker seems to be mapping out his father’s life from birth (“spring”) to the incoming death (“winter”). 
 And through all of his aging, he still keeps the same spirits.
My father moved through dooms of love