Classic Poem

When the place was green with the shaky grass,
And the windy trees were high;
When the leaflets told each other tales,
And the stars were in the sky;
When the silent crows hid their ebon beaks
Beneath their ruffled wing—
Then the fairies watered the glancing spot
Where the lilies used to spring!

When the sun is high in the summer sky,
And the lake is deep with clouds;
When gadflies bite the prancing kine,
And light the lark enshrouds—
Then the butterfly, like a feather dropped
From the tip of an angel's wing,
Floats wavering on to the glancing spot
Where the lilies used to spring!

When the wheat is shorn and the burns run brown,
And the moon shines clear at night;
When wains are heaped with rustling corn,
And the swallows take their flight;
When the trees begin to cast their leaves,
And the birds, new-feathered, sing—
Then comes the bee to the glancing spot
Where the lilies used to spring!

When the sky is grey and the trees are bare,
And the grass is long and brown,
And black moss clothes the soft damp thatch,
And the rain comes weary down,
And countless droplets on the pond
Their widening orbits ring—
Then bleak and cold is the silent spot
Where the lilies used to spring!