Classic Poem

I know the sky will fall one day,
The great green trees will topple down,
The spires will wither far away
Upon the battlemented town;
When winds and waves forget to flow
And the wild song-birds cease from calling,
Then shall I take my shoes and go
To tell the King the sky is falling.

There's lots of things I've never done,
And lots of things I'll never see;
The nearest rainbow ever spun
Is much too far away from me;
But when the dark air's lost in snow
And the long quiet strikes appalling,
I learn how it will feel to go
To tell the King the sky is falling.