Classic Poem

Spring stood with welcome at the door,
A gay and smiling warden;
The land, bedecked with blossoms o'er,
Is like a flower garden.

The carriage speeds apace and flies,
Beside me sits my treasure;
Her heart, I feel it beat; her eyes
Are soft with love and pleasure.

And it's oh, the trill and the scented sun!
Green-jewelled earth, how gay!
The trees their white heads every one
For very rapture sway.

And peeping up, the flowers rejoice,
And turn their curious faces
On the lovely woman of my choice,
And on me, the man she graces.

Ah, fleeting bliss! The scythe will pass
Above the seed to-morrow;
The spring will fade; my love, alas!
Prove faithless, to my sorrow.