Classic Poem

" I wandered forth alone, " sang she,
" When summer flowers were young,
And birds made merry songs for me,
The summer woods among;
And gaily, gaily danced the rill,
And balmy was the air: —
But there was something failed me still,
Though all the land was fair.

" The blossoms all are dead, " she sings,
" That graced the summer-time;
And summer birds have spread their wings,
To seek a softer clime.
The wintry sky is dark above;
The silent woods are bare: —
But thou art near me, oh, my love,
And all the land is fair. "