Classic Poem

The breeze that sighs through lemon groves,
The odor in their gift may bring,
As song from heart that truly loves,
May soothe the heart that cannot sing.

But what if winds, in progress vain
Should waste their sweets in empty air,
And hearts should idly breathe the strain,
For other hearts that will noThear?

Better the breeze had never swept,
Its sweets to waste, the generous grove;
And still the foolish heart had kept
The secret close that told its love.

True, they had lost, the grove of sweets,
The sweetest kiss it ever knew;
And the poor heart, with love that beats,
Had stored in vain its treasures too.