Classic Poem

It is n't the robins' coming
That makes the spring seem near,
It is n't the brown bees' humming
The soft air, sweet and clear,
It is n't the violets' blooming,
The buds on the dogwood tree,
It 's just my love in the garden
Singing a song for me!

It is n't the roar and rattle
Of strife that does not cease;
It is n't the daily battle
That will not give me peace.
It is n't the fame or fortune
That urges me endlessly,
It 's just my love in the garden
Singing a song for me!

When I have finished the task, dear,
When all of the work is through,
For heav'n I will not ask, dear,
But only for you, for you.
There 's joy in the thought of resting
Under the tulip tree,
With just my love in the garden
Singing a song for me!