Classic Poem

Where dost thou loiter, Spring,
Whilst it behoveth
Thee to cease wandering
Where thy breeze roveth,
And to my lady bring
The flowers she loveth?

Come with thy melting skies,
Like her cheek, blushing,
Come with thy dewy eyes
Where founts are gushing;
Come where the wild bee hies
When dawn is flushing.

Lead her where, by the brook,
The first blossom keepeth,
Where, in the shelter'd nook,
The callow bud sleepeth,
Or with a timid look
Through its leaves peepeth.

Lead her whereon the spray,
Blithely carolling,
First birds their roundelay
For my lady sing—
But keep, where'er she stray,
True love blossoming.