Classic Poem

Blossom that spread'st, ere spring brings in
Her sudden flights of swallows,
Thy nets of blue, cool-meshed and thin,
In rain-wet pasture hollows,

Thronging the dim grass everywhere
Amid thy heart-leaves tender,
Thy temperate fairness seems more fair
Even than August's splendour!

Yet do I hear complaints of thee,
Men doubting of thy fragrance!
Ah, Dear, thou hast revealed to me
That shyest of perfume vagrants!

Do ever so, my Flower discreet,
And all the world be fair to,
While men but guess that rarest sweet
Which one alone can swear to.