Classic Poem

Oh woodlands, hang your banners out
And wave them all till Death;
Oh winds, exult with me and shout
Till you are out of breath;
Oh Spirit of the Spring, employ
Your every subtle art—
But you can never match the joy
That leaps within my heart.

Sing louder, louder till you fail,
Impulsive little throng;
Oh wonder-stricken nightingale,
Is this your wildest song?
Oh laughing millions everywhere,
You should be twice as gay;
Oh what a sky and what an air—
I saw my love to-day!