Classic Poem

Fairest weather may it be
When on beaten ways you pass—
On the mead or river's edge,
With the green or faded sedge;
Though the ice be on the stream
And the ground be hard as brass,
Clear and fair
May the sun shine through the air.

Fairest weather may it be
When you go your way to town,
Though the white dust in a cloud,
On the windgust huffling loud,
Whirl around your blooming face,
With your eyelids fasten'd down,
Or, in heat,
Lie all dead about your feet.

Fairest weather may it be
When you come by woods in green,
While the shrunken moss is dried
On the tree stem's wide-bow'd side,
And the air is clear of clouds,
And is neither hot nor keen;
And no flow'r
Glistens, wetted by a show'r.

I'd await you on your way
Under winter's freezing sky,
Or to find you come to sight
From a dust cloud whirling white,
Like the moon outcoming clear
From a shining cloud on high;
And may day
E'er be fair upon your way.