Classic Poem

Love was wanting songs to sing
On a golden day,
When the earth was bright with Spring
And the flowers of May.

So he lay beside the brink
Of a quiet stream,
Where the cattle go to drink
And the clouds to dream.

Sunbeams lit the woods around,
Breezes fanned his cheek,
And the blossoms on the ground
Almost seemed to speak.

In the branches overhead
Robin sang his love,
And the tender things he said
Filled the skies above.

Flitting through the scented air
Where the stream was bright,
Little flies went here and there,
Crazy with delight.

But though all were bright and glad,
Silent was Love's lute,
For such happiness he had
That his lips were mute.

So he lay there in the grass
By the quiet stream,
And he watched the cattle pass
And the shadows dream.

Till when evening, dumb and grey,
Closed the buds that had uncurled,
Full of song he stole away
Down the music of the world.