Classic Poem

Inexorable Spring comes on to hunt me,
With all her aching ecstasy,
And sudden beauty like a javelin
Pierces the heart of me.

She spares me nothing, nothing of her laughter,
Her golden whim of daffodils,
Her calling and her singing down the valleys,
Her song among the hills.

Nothing she spares me, nothing of her rapture,
Her leaping brooks, her young things growing,
Her seagulls plunging through the tides of sun
Out of the dayspring flowing.

Years there have been when I could bear the beauty
Of budding trees and flashing wings;
Now I am one with trodden leaves and Autumn
And all old broken things.