Classic Poem

A LONG the garden ways just now
— I heard the flowers speak;
The white rose told me of your brow,
— The red rose of your cheek;
The lily of your bended head,
— The bindweed of your hair;
Each looked its loveliest and said
— You were more fair.

I went into the wood anon,
— And heard the wild birds sing,
How sweet you were, they warbled on,
— Piped, trilled, the selfsame thing.
Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause
— The burden did repeat,
And still began again because
— You were more sweet.

And then I went down to the sea,
— And heard it murmuring too,
Part of an ancient mystery,
— All made of me and you:
How many a thousand years ago
— I loved, and you were sweet —
Longer I could not stay, and so
— I fled back to your feet.