Classic Poem

When the long gray day is done,
Spent at weary seams,
Homeward comes my Heart to me,
With the flock of dreams.

" And what tidings, ruddy Heart?
Shall we never share,
Hand in hand, the sun and wind,
Seeking all that's fair?"

" Not to-morrow, Dear-to-me!
Ours are parted ways:
Thine the spinning, mine to seek
Fortune of the days."

Oh, and it is cold without
My own Heart to sing;
Oh, and 'tis a lonely way
My Heart goes wandering.

But I fold the web, at dusk,
As a maid beseems;
And my sunburned Heart comes home,
With the flock of dreams.