Classic Poem

In the meadows smug burghers are straying
In Sunday best dressed out;
They are frisking, and shouting, and saying,
“'Tis beautiful here-about.”

They peer with eyes a-blinking
Where buds and blossoms peep,
Whilst with long cocked ears they are drinking,
The sparrow's romantic cheep.

But I my windows have covered
With hangings black as night;
For familiar ghosts have hovered
About me in broad daylight.

And she who once did love me
Came back from the spirit-spheres;
She wept as she bent above me,
And melted my heart with her tears.