Classic Poem

To you, troop so fleet,
That with winged wandering feet,
Through the wide world pass,
And with soft murmuring
Toss the green shades of spring
In woods and grass,
Lily and violet
I give, and blossoms wet,
Roses and dew;
This branch of blushing roses,
Whose fresh bud uncloses,
Wind-flowers, too.
Ah, winnow with sweet breath,
Winnow the holt and heath,
Round this retreat;
Where all the golded morn
We fan the gold o' the corn,
In the sun's heat.