Classic Poem

How close must be the city air
To make your young head droop so soon,
Ere ever May's wild-flying hair
Yield to the silken bonds of June!

Faded! Before the bloom, the blight!
Unshamed, but faded! Where are now
Those tremulous glories that made bright
That powdered cheek and brow?

Oh, cheek that flamed, oh, sparkling eyes!
Was it for this, that perfect mirth?
For this the love, the sacrifice,
The patience, and the pangs of birth?

Faded! And now the long decay;
Years, and the hungering look behind.
November on the heels of May!
A crumpled leaf, the whirling wind!