Classic Poem

I was so fain to love, dear!
Let the dream go.
The brightest vision dies of dawn,
The rose of snow,
And blossoms all fall from the tree
When June winds blow.

I was so fain to live, dear!
Let the dream go.
Who heeds the faded blooms of May
That drift below?
And though Spring's self
Should weep for them,
They would not know.