Classic Poem

Like yellow flowers enriching with their gold
The treasure-house, that is the World in Spring,
Are all the tender thoughts of you that bring
Their gladness to make richer, many-fold,
My heart—which is the world a-bloom of old
With youth to live and songs to hear and sing;
Into this treasure-house, Ninon, you fling
One flower that will not fade when Spring is cold.

How can I thank you for the gold that gleams
Across my April days of shower and sun?
How can I thank you for your gifts to me?—
For gentleness, and mirth, and faith, and dreams,
And fairer than all fair fresh flowers, this one,—
This fragrant fadeless flower of sympathy.