Classic Poem

Spring, I am tired!
Your brisk young buds and vigorous green
And all the bustle of your clouds and winds
But add to my great weariness:
Ask the long grass how heavy falls my foot
Across the excitement of the meadow.

I pray you, still your restless sprigs and sprays
And dancing leaves,
Trying their newest steps on every bough and bush,
And tell the birds to call their mates
More modestly.

My eyes are dizzy with the noon's hot gold
And sudden purple,
And my ears ring with shouting yellow, pink and white,
And singing blue,
And green and green and green!

Spring, I am sad,
And you but make me sadder:
There is a heartlessness about your birds and flowers,
A flippancy of wing and petal!
They sip among themselves the moist, sweet air,
Deep-dipping bud and beak,
I think all Nature presses thirsty lips
Against the brimming earth and sky —
But my soul stands before an empty cup.

Almost I would unmask the mockery of this rejuvenation,
This yearly comedy of youth!
Spring, sitting there in your green cloak,
You are a gray-haired woman,
You are as old as I,
As sad,
As tired!

But you are brave and beautiful
And I will sit with you a while:
Together we will watch this pageantry,
This flagged procession of gay promises,
Fluttering to fulfillment,
This dreaming —

But you and I will dream no more.
Spring,