Classic Poem

Thy one white leaf is open to the sky,
And o'er thy heart swift lights and shadows pass,—
The wooing winds seem loath to wander by,
Jealous of sunshine and the summer grass.

Thy sylvan loveliness is pure and strong,
For thou art bright and yet not overbold—
Like a young maid apart from fashion's throng—
A virgin dowered with a heart of gold.