Classic Poem

What is the summer
Of which they speak?
How shall we find it?
Where shall we seek?

The spring has passed over,
It would not stay;
It was too bright,
So it vanished away.

I saw the white stars
Over the grass,
And the daffodils golden
Arise and pass.

The merles were singing
As evening fell
Of something coming
Too sweet to tell.

A whisper flushed
Through the twilight pale;
The lily, the rose,
And the nightingale.

I listen for them;—
And what has come?
The leaves are falling,
The birds are dumb.

The scentless sunflowers
Are open brown;
Through empty branches
The rain pours down.

Is this the summer
I waited for?
Is it come? or coming