Classic Poem

Afar in tangles mazy
Are gold and scarlet gleams;
But golden-rod and daisy
Tell not the winds their dreams,
But even the winds seem dead, for they
Ruffle no rose-leaf on their way.

And yonder where the hill is
No blade—no bloom is stirred;
Still are the water-lilies:
There is no whispered word
To wake the world, that wakes to weep:
Let it sleep—let it sleep!