Classic Poem

Now the spirit's song has withered
As a song of last year's June
That has made the air its tomb.
Shall we ever find it after
Sighing in some summer tune
That is sealèd now in gloom,
Safe for light and laughter?

Now the sky blooms full of colour,
Houses glow and windows shine
Glittering with impatient wings.
Where they go to may I follow
Since mine eyes have made them mine?
Shall I ever find these things
Hid in hill or hollow?