Classic Poem

The months we used to read of
Are come to us again,
With sunniness and sunniness
And rare delights of rain;
The lark is up, and says aloud,
East and west I see no cloud.

The lanes are full of roses,
The fields are grassy deep;
The leafiness and floweriness
Make one abundanTheap;
The balmy blossom-breathing airs
Smell of future plums and pears.

The sunshine at our waking
Is still found smiling by,
With beamingness and earnestness,
Like some belovèd eye;
And all the day it seems to take
Delight in being broad awake.

The lasses in the gardens
Shew forth their heads of hair,
With rosiness and lightsomeness
A chasing here and there;
And then they'll hear the birds, and stand,
And shade their eyes with lifted hand.

And then again they're off there,
As if their lovers came,
With giddiness and gladsomeness,
Like doves but newly tame,—
Ah! light your cheeks at Nature, do,
And draw the whole world after you.