Classic Poem

In hope I climbed the grassy stair,
Green hills in sunshine glancing;
A thousand grasses blossomed fair,
The breezes set them dancing.
Each seemed a happy soul to be,
Rejoicing with the summer;
I smiled to think they danced for me,
And every glad newcomer.

But ah! a rapture greater still,
Below, my heart awaited;
It was the selfsame grassy hill,
How wondrously translated!
It seemed that gems had dropped in showers,
The hill with glory lining;
'Twas but a crowd of sorrel flowers,
Through which the sun was shining!

Each little flower, with ruby wings,
Moved to a rhythmic measure;
Spellbound, I watched the lovely things,
As one surveys his treasure.
I danced, I sang, I could not choose
But of their brightness borrow;
I felt as if I should not lose
That joy in any sorrow!

Downcast, I trod the selfsame way,
The summer hardly older;
But ah! how different seemed the day
To me, a sad beholder.
No light lies on the hilltops now,
No music stirs the grasses;
The very insects seem to know
That some sad spirit passes!

I reached at last the lovely place
Where late I paused in rapture;
In vain I gazed, with wistful face,
No glow could I recapture.
The sorrel flowers were growing there,
Not one perhaps had vanished;
Put ah! the cloud of my despair
Their gracious joy had banished!