Classic Poem

Why , ye glories of to-day,
Will ye bring a wet cheek here?
Light and odor, song and breeze,
In delicious concord play;
What but care should fret the tear
When we walk midst joys like these?

It is all too dark to see
Sometimes, what our spirits hold:
All too damp for chords to sound,
Or the rain falls noisily,
Or the wind is fierce and cold,
And our gentle thoughts are bound.

But the tender looks of May
Set them free and light the soul;—
Overwhelmed at seeing there
All we ever laid away,
Rapturous sadness gains control:
Tears must come, but not of care.