Classic Poem

Mouse-hole in December,
Quiet little Dover!
What shall I remember,
Now the days are over?

Snow in hushes falling;
Blue days creeping by;
Trees in still processions
Etched upon the sky;
And a silent village
Where the gray stones lean,
Whispering of a Dover
They alone have seen.

All I shall remember,
Now the days are over, —
Mouse-hole in December,
Quiet little Dover!

When I shall be lying
With a gray stone over,
Will this great World dim to
Just a little Dover?