Classic Poem

The summer is dying, is dying,
Its splendor is fading away;
And my heart is trying, is trying,
To still keep cheerful and gay.

As the sun is sinking, sinking,
Adown the bright western sky,
I can't keep from thinking, from thinking,
Of the days that have long gone by.

Nor can keep from crying, crying,
With sad heart and drooping head,
As the wind is sighing, sighing,
As if for some one dead.

For, oh, it is taking, taking,
Something out of my heart,
And my heart is breaking, breaking,
To see the summer depart.