Classic Poem

I sit beside the brazier's glow
And, drowsing in the heat,
I dream of daffodils that blow
And lambs that frisk and bleat—

Black lambs that frolic in the snow
Among the daffodils
In a far orchard that I know
Beneath the Malvern Hills.

Next year the daffodils will blow
And lambs will frisk and bleat,
But I'll not feel the brazier's glow,
Nor any cold or heat.