Classic Poem

As you went down the road, dear,
As you went down the road,
How chill the breeze began to blow —
My heart took up its load;
The skies that had been blue and bright,
How fast they darkened into night.

And will you ne'er turn back, dear?
And shall we never meet?
Do no glad cries come up the road?
No swift returning feet?
Half-way to meet you I would run,
Though long the way and set the sun.

Alas! the days go on, dear:
How dulled the daylight seems,
Since you went down the road, dear,
And left me to my dreams;
Left me to bear my weary load,
As I toil after, down the road.

Yes, the sweet summer lingers still;
The hazes loiter on the hill:
The year, a spendthrift growing old,
Is scattering his lavish gold
For a last pleasure.
The robins flock, but do not go;
We share the wood with footsteps slow,
In sober leisure,
Or sit beneath the chestnut tree,
Our hands in silent company.
Not yet, dear friend, we part, not yet:
Full soon the last warm sun will set;
The cricket cease to stir the grass;
The gold and amber fade away;
The scarlet from the landscape pass;
And all the sky be sodden gray; —
Too soon, alas, the frost must fall,
And blight the asters on the hill,
The golden-rod, the gentians, all,
And we must feel the parting chill:
But oh, not yet, not yet we part,
The Summer strains us to her heart;
The world is all a golden smile,
And we may love a little while:
The Summer dies, and hearts forget,
And we must part — not yet, not yet.