Classic Poem

When the Spring died, and I was queen,
Twenty-five years ago,
And the flowers still bloomed, and the leaves were green,
And the birds sang loud and low,
The maiden was matron, and home was gay,
And the hours swift-footed danced away.
To wife and husband I brought fruits then,
Golden and green and purple and red,
Now flowers and fruits I bring again,
After so many years have fled.
Their summer of life is ended, —
May its memories that remain,
Of joys and sorrows blended,
Give more of pleasure than pain.