Classic Poem

A sad sweet song at even-tide
Came from the neighb'ring grove;
It was no song of sorrow, nor was it a lay of love,
It was no song of sorrow,
Nor was it a lay of love.
'Twas but a pretty Robin's trill,
With melancholy strain,
Among the leafy branches sung.
They said, portending rain
Among the leafy branches sung, they said, portending rain
The sky was bright with rosy red
And dusky mists were hanging low;
Than that sweet song at even-tide,
No sweeter sadder song we know.