Classic Poem

The earliest flower of Spring,
Thou hast it; it is thine;
The first upon thine unstirred soil,
To give it thee is mine;

It chose a mild, fair April morn
Its yellow form to show,
When the leaves and grass grew green
As thou wast here to know.

And its sight had a look like thee,
Of the early morn and spring;
And I've taken it from thy garden bank,
'Twas left for me to bring.

And upon thy desk it is placed,
With the water at its root;
That the voice of the spring and early morn
May speak though ever mute.