Classic Poem

When love is dead, draw thou the lattice close,
Shut out the world with all its blare and din;
Rain down the petals of the faded rose,
Lest pity enter in.

When love is dead, weave thou a checkered pall
Of broken promises and faith unkept,
And in the twilight when the soft dews fall,
Thy heart shall know Love wept.

The bee shall drown his homely, humming note
Upon thine ear, until thy day shall pass;
The woodbird shall reproach thee from the moat,
And things that throng the grass.

A little child shall look with wondering eye
Into thine own, and greet thy smile with tears;
A butterfly with ghostly wings shall die,
And haunt thee through the years.