Classic Poem

Midst the scant foliage of an old, gnarled tree
Outside my door,
The birds are joyous as spring birds can be,
And there outpour
A longer sweetness than the rich in green
Hear from their choristers less often seen.

When we are old, with graces almost gone;
Like birds in spring
Within us, still, may fresh young hopes sing on
With resting wing;
And in full sunshine of our second May
The happy children love to sing and play!