Classic Poem

Four things I cannot remember
In the fullness of their grace,
Wind of the Spring, curve of the sea,
The moon's pale touch on a white birch-tree,
And your kiss upon my face.

For though I cherish and hold them,
The heavy winter through,
Spring is more gay, the sea-foam-wrought,
And the birch, are lovelier than I thought;
And a kiss is always new.