Classic Poem

Soft in the garden blows the breath of Spring,
Sweet to his sweetheart coos the brooding dove,
Soft to the dreamer murmurs dreaming Love,
As soft, as sweet, as swiftly vanishing;
Soft to the dreaming ear Love's red lips sing,
" Now is the hour to dream and now the day:
Swiftly the moments pass away, away" —
And ye are brothers, Love and thou, O Spring!

The father of a million Springs art thou,
And each the father of a million flowers:
And Love and Thou ye reck not of the hours:
Old Time can swear that Love's as lovely now,
As sweet as Love, as swiftly vanishing —
Soft in the garden blows the breath of Spring.