Classic Poem

" What do you gather? " the maiden said,
Shaking her sunlit curls at me —
" See, these flowers I plucked are dead,
Ah! misery. "

" What do you gather? " the miser said,
Clinking his gold, as he spoke to me —
" I cannot sleep at night for dread
Of thieves, " said he.

" What do you gather? " the dreamer said,
" I dream dreams of what is to be;
Daylight comes, and my dreams are fled,
Ah! woe is me. "

" What do you gather? " the young man said —
" I seek fame for eternity,
Toiling on while the world's abed,
Alone, " said he.

" What do I gather? " I laughing said,
" Nothing at all save memory,
Sweet as flowers, but never dead,
Like thine, Rosie. "

" I have no fear of thieves, " I said,
" Daylight kills not my reverie,
Fame will find I am snug abed,
That comes to me. "

" The past is my treasure, friends, " I said,
" Time but adds to my treasury,
Happy moments are never fled
Away from me. "

" All one needs to be rich, " I said,
" Is to live that his past shall be
Sweet in his thoughts, as a wild rose red,