Classic Poem

In the morning all the trees
Sway and rustle: all the birds
Chirp and warble to the breeze.

Deep in meadow-grass the herds
Pasture and the brook that flees
Laughs as though with joyous words.

Lightly flights of swallows fret
The serenity of blue:
Here the stile is where we met,

Here alas we said adieu.
All is sweet and glad, and yet,
Dearest, I am far from you!