Classic Poem

Through cold and dreary winter Nature sleeps,
And hushed in peaceful rest seems lying dead,
With heavy snows heaped on her frosty head.
Fond Spring stoops o'er the lovely form and weeps

Great, bitter tears of agony. She steeps
The flowers buried in their earthy bed
With woe-sprung showers of agony and dread
At this, their death. Up lovely Nature leaps

And smiles, won back to life by tearful Spring.
Spring's night of sorrow changed to morn of joy
Aloud o'er hill and dale, she'll blithely sing

With gentle, soothing voice so sweet and coy
That scarce the soft responsive echoes ring
Lest they her smoothly-flowing notes destroy.