Classic Poem

Once there was a little Voice,
Merry as the month of May,
That did cry " Rejoice! Rejoice! "
Now — 'tis flown away!

Sweet it was, and very clear,
Chasing every thought of pain:
Summer! shall I ever hear
Such a voice again?

I have pondered all night long,
Listening for as soft a sound;
But so sweet and clear a song,
Never have I found!

I would give a mine of gold,
Could I hear that little Voice;
Could I, as in days of old,
At a sound rejoice!