Classic Poem

All the trees are ringing music,
There's a singing in each nest —
In this woodland orchestration,
Who is leader of the rest?

Can it be the grey-winged plover,
Nodding grave and circumspectly?
Or the pedant who, up yonder,
Times his " cuckoo " so correctly?

Or perhaps the stork who sternly
Looks the leader to the life,
And with noisy bill is tapping
In the loud, melodious strife?

No, the leader's in my bosom
Who's conducting all the grove;
I can hear the time he's beating,
And I think his name is Love.