Classic Poem

Even as ears of the wheat in wheat-fields,
So flourish and sway in the spirit of man
Thoughts and fancies.
But the tenderest fancies and thoughts are
Thoughts of love, like the flowers amongst them,
Flowers, blue and scarlet.

Flowers, blue and scarlet!
The reaper disdainful rejects you as worthless,
Stout ashen flails will descend on you mocking;
Even the penniless wanderer
Whom your loveliness charms and inspirits,
Shaking his head,
Calleth you slight, pretty weeds.
But the poor village maiden,
Twining her wreaths for the fête,
Will gather and guard you;
Decks with your beauty her fair young tresses,
And brightly adorned hastes to the dancing,
Where fluting and fiddling sound gaily;
Or to the silent copses,
Where the voice of her dearest sounds yet more delicious
Than fluting and fiddling.