Classic Poem

Dun fields, where bloom was lately,
And a silence in the air.
Save where some bird sedately
Whistles a note here or there:
As, if, like me, recalling
A vision of vanished springs,
While the dead leaves floating and falling
Seem their broken and bruisèd wings.

So lately the fields were growing
Into their golden green;
So lately the farmer was sowing
The long brown furrows between;
So lately my heart was singing
With the birds that began to build,
With jubilant hope was ringing,
With jubilant love was filled!

Now I cry out in my sorrow,
And no one answers my moan;
To-morrow will come, and to-morrow
Find me and leave me alone.
There's never a spring at whose waking
My pulses will thrill as before;
Shall a heart sing that is breaking?
Were it blessed, it could scarcely do more!