Classic Poem

Now I can see
The buds are green again
On every tree.

Through the dear intercourse of sun and dew,
Of thrilling root, and folding earth, anew
They come, in beauty.

They up to the sun,
As on a breast, are lifting every one
Green leaves.

Under the eaves
The sparrows and the swallows
Are in love.

There is a chatter in the woods above,
Where the grim crow
Is telling what his sweetheart wants to know.

For the sun
Is shining fair,
And the green
Is on the tree;

And the wind
Is everywhere
Whispering
So urgently!

You will die
Unless you do
Find a mate
To whisper to.