Classic Poem

The frosty sky, like a furnace burning,
The keen air, crisp and cold,
And a sunset that splashes the clouds with gold;
But my heart to summer turning.

Come back, sweet summer! come back again!
I hate the snow,
And the icy winds that the north lands blow,
And the fall of the frozen rain.

I hate the iron ground,
And the Christmas roses,
And the sickly day that dies when it closes,
With never a song or a sound.

Come back! come back! with your passionate heat
And glowing hazes,
And your sun that shines as a lover gazes,
And your day with the tired feet.