Classic Poem

May flowers are opening
And leaves unfolding free;
There are bees in every blossom
And birds on every tree.

The sun is gladly shining,
The stream sings merrily,
And I only am pining
And all is dark to me.

O cold, cold is my heart!
It will not, cannot rise;
It feels no sympathy
With those refulgent skies.

Dead, dead is my joy,
I long to be at rest;
I wish the damp earth covered
This desolate breast.

If I were quite alone,
It might not be so drear,
When all hope was gone;
At least I could not fear.

But the glad eyes around me
Must weep as mine have done,
And I must see the same gloom
Eclipse their morning sun.

If heaven would rain on me
That future storm of care,
So their fond hearts were free
I'd be content to bear.

Alas! as lightning withers
The young and agèd tree,
Both they and I shall fall beneath
Fate we cannot flee, The