Classic Poem

Drear, dull autumnal rain,
Skies washed to gray;
Winds sighing like an unfleshed ancient pain;
Uncanny day!

A time for tears and musings on the past,
For vain regret;
A time to dream of joys that could not last
But mock us yet.

A time to dream of winter and to mourn;
To hear sad tunes;
To yearn unto the far and shadowed bourne
Of perished Junes.

Yet not for me this drear autumnal mood,
This winter fear;
I view from no dull mental solitude
The aging year.

For me—the memory of sun-shot days,
Nights kind and warm;
Moons purpling the weird star-enchanted haze;
The April storm.

The rain's drone on the roof, the wind's lament
Among the trees;
These make me hear through days of warm content
The hum of bees.

Because I see with eyes that saw your face
As none had seen;
And hear with ears that heard you—every place
Is summer-green.

And I shall hear the robin through the fall
And in the snow;
Because you live and breathe and love in all,
Wherever I may go.