Classic Poem

Love hath built himself a house
Underneath the snow,
Where, amid the winter's storm,
He can keep his body warm,
When the winds do blow.

It is lined with leaves that fell
Half a year ago,
And around it linger yet
Odours of spring violet,
Underneath the snow.

If you come and try to peep
Into what's below,
Laughing loud, as if in fun,
Love jumps up and makes you run,
Pelting you with snow.

What does Love do night and day?
Would you like to know?
In the dark he sits and weeps
For a little maid that sleeps—
Sleeps beneath the snow.

And when Spring shall come again
And the warm winds blow,
Tears have made his sight so dim
That the world will seem to him
Buried still in snow.