Classic Poem

I HEAR the whispering poplars
In the hollow by my door;
They sound like fairy waters
Beside a magic shore,
They sound like long-lost secrets
Of childhood's golden lore,—
The murmuring, nodding poplars
In the hollow by my door.

All night they talk together
Beneath the silent sky;
The mountains crouch beyond them,
The blue lake sleeps near by,—
But still the silver, sibilant
Small voices laugh and sigh,
Talking all night together
Beneath the silent sky.