Classic Poem

Spring and the flowers return. The world is gay,
—Once more the old sun on the ancient earth
—Shines forth and brings a million buds to birth.
Where are those sons of ours we sent away?
Spring and the flowers return—but where are they?

Tarry, hard Winter, ice-bound, stiff, and gray,
—Thou art as we are, full of darkest fears,
—Weep with us—let us feel thy chilly tears!
We are not fit for joy. We can but say,
“Spring and the flowers return—but where are they?”