Classic Poem

In the trees the birds were singing,
And the winds were sighing faint;
Every breeze sweet perfume bringing,
Everything with sweetness taint.

In the parlor they were dancing,
Singing, talking, laughing free;
But to us far more entrancing,
Was love's low, sweet melody.
And the twilight hour nearing,
Hush the music of the birds;
But to me far, far more churning,
Was the music of your words.

Ever more shall I remember,
How you looked that evening fair;
At the day's last dying ember,
'Neath the parlor window there.