Classic Poem

We'll to the woodss and gather may
Fresh from the footprints of the rain;
We'll to the woods, at every vein
To drink the spirit of the day.
The winds of the spring are out at play,
The needs of spring in heart and brain.
We'll to the woods and gather may
Fresh from the footprints of the rain.

The world's too near her end, you say?--
Hark to the blackbird's mad refrain.
It waits for her, the vast Inane?--
Then, girls, to help her on the way
We'll to the woods and gather may.