Classic Poem

Whom shall we bring,
To play or sing,
On this our knap,
Our young folk's knap?
Whom shall we get
To our old set?
What chap or maid —
What maid or chap?
Some of the best, for work or play,
Have play'd their last, and gone away.

Kate at the spring
Has a wedding ring,
Nor comes to sight —
Again to sight.
And John grinds meal
At another wheel,
And there walks white —
All mealy white.
And Tom fells trees in another dale,
And rosy Jane in the town wanes pale.

So let us choose,
For those we lose,
Some young ones more —
As many more.
For Lady Day
Has brought this way
Some three, or four,
Or more than four.
I know of four: I reckon five
To come, and keep our game alive.