Classic Poem

You ask me for a song, my dear;
Born with no music in mine ear,
And harden'd now, and dull'd, I fear,
By many a care, and many a year.
But never mind! of music sweet
No lack is here the day to greet;
Summer and Spring are both in tune
To honour this fourteenth of June.
April and May, and June together,
Have treasur'd up their choicest weather,
Cloud, verdure, sunlight, shower and breeze,
And twinkling skies, and waving trees,
Politely have kept back their store,
This happy morn to grace the more
And hark! what notes from every bower,
And whiff! what gales from every flower.
Sure if you're not content with these,
My little Bess, you're hard to please.
But if to match this out-door song
For something nearer home you long,
I think I know two fairies small,
And one light elf will come at call.
And whosoe'er shall see them stand
With you, my maiden, hand in hand,
Shall own 'tis music even to see
Eight round blue eyes so full of glee.
No need one word to sing or say;
Your smiles will be a song as gay
As ever crown'd a wedding-day.