Classic Poem

I plucked the harebells as I went
Singing along the river-side;
The skies above were opulent
Of sunshine “Ah, whate'er betide,
The world is sweet, is sweet,” I cried,
That morning by the river-side.

The curlews called along the shore;
The boats swept from the sandy beach;
Afar I heard the breakers' roar
Mellowed to silver-sounding speech;
And still I sang it o'er and o'er,
“The world is sweet forevermore!”

Perhaps today some other one,
Loitering along the river-side,
Content beneath the gracious sun,
May sing again, “Whate'er betide,
The world is sweet,” I shall not chide,
Although my song is done.