Classic Poem

Not for thee the rose with sudden bloom
Springs from out the grass around a tomb,
Not for thee.
All the world for thee is glad and bright:
Still the stars adore the purple night;
Still the purple night adores the sea.

Still the birds' blue eggs within the nest,
Girdled by the heart of spring-time, rest
Safe and warm.
Still the sun is full of golden rays;
Still the ceaseless light of summer days
Cows the storm.

Not for thee the ever-darkening years
Weave their wayward crowns with pearls of tears,
Crowns of grief.

When the autumn's fiery glory gleams,
'Tis to thee a season full of dreams
Fluttering round in every crimson leaf.

Spring that clothes the glowing meads in gold
Takes thy girlish hand in hers to hold,
Holds it tight:—
Quitting April, hand in hand with May,
Spring will smile and whisper through the day,
Through the night.

Every year's each season brings its charm:
June hath starry bracelets for thine arm,
For thine hair
Snowy circlets of the vestal rose.
Summer nights that bring to thee repose
Bring to singers sleepless-eyed despair.

Not for thee the bitter wreaths of thorns,
But the golden flowers of golden morns
Glad and long.
Though the singer's locks are touched with grey
Spring-time in his heart he gives to May,
Summer in his song.