Classic Poem

Oh, Gentle-breath goes singing, goes singing through the grass,
And all the flowers know her and love to see her pass.
Oh, all the flowers know her, and well they know the song
That Gentle-breath goes singing, goes singing all day long.
O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!
They do not know you sing of death.

Oh, Gentle-breath comes crooning a tender lullaby.
The merry day is over, the stars are in the sky—
The stars are in the sky, and the flowers droop their heads,
They cannot hear her passing, so airily she treads.
O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!—
How mournfully she murmureth!

Oh, Gentle-breath comes crying—comes crying in the night
Among the sleeping flowers, with footsteps swift and light.
Her tears are on their faces—she sheds them for their sakes,
And there is in her singing a tender heart that breaks.
O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!—
How tunefully she sings of death!

Oh, Gentle-breath goes wailing—goes shivering away,
And Icy-breath comes howling, and clouds are dull and gray.
Oh, Icy-breath comes howling—the pine trees sob o'erhead
For the leaves that all have fallen, the flowers that are dead.
O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!
They did not know you sang of death.

O promise sweet!—I hear it!—the falling of the rain!
The leaves once more shall rustle, the flowers come again!
The flowers come again, with their faces fresh and sweet,
And all the grass shall tremble 'neath the touches of your feet.
For you will come, O Gentle-breath!
And sing again your song of death!