Classic Poem

The early autumn night descends; the storm
Rages outdoors; within my room I sit,
And listen to wild September's equinox.

Then from our parlor, where my sister sings,
Music comes to my ears. What summer night
Was it, long since, when first I heard that song?

Tears fill my eyes. The voice which caroled once
Those notes, now sings no more for me; the lips
Which once I kissed, another kisses now.