Classic Poem

Now they come, and now they stop,
Now they all go in.
Now the coaches drive away;
And now it must begin.

All their faces looked the same,
Every time before.
If I heard it, I should know
More and more and more.

If I heard it, I would sing,
When I went away.
I would sing it till I grew
Beautiful, some day.

O, I hear a whiff of it;
There's another one;—
And the coaches driving up,
After it's begun!