Classic Poem

I sometimes hear among the snow-clad trees
The lone wind chanting solemn symphonies.

I sometimes smell, while yet the woods are bare,
The breath of unborn blossoms in the air.

I am at times aware of gentle sighs
There where the creek, ice-fettered, dreaming lies.

I sometimes witness when the air is still
Unearthly splendors on the white-robed hill.

I sometimes read in flashing stars at night
Mysterious promises of future light.

But what can make a spirit's anguish less,
Or ease a heart's eternal loneliness?