Classic Poem

I DREAD to see the summer sun
Come glowing up the sky,
And early pansies, one by one,
Opening the violet eye.

Again the fair azalea bows
Beneath her snowy crest;
In yonder hedge the hawthorn blows,
The robin builds her nest;

The tulips lift their proud tiàrs,
The lilac waves her plumes;
And, peeping through my lattice-bars,
The rose-acacia blooms.

But she can bloom on earth no more,
Whose early doom I mourn;
Nor spring nor summer can restore
Our flower, untimely shorn.

She was our morning-glory,
Our primrose, pure and pale,
Our little mountain daisy,
Our lily of the vale.

Now dim as folded violets,
Her eyes of dewy light;
And her rosy lips have mournfully
Breathed out their last good-night.

'T is therefore that I dread to see
The glowing summer sun;
And the balmy blossoms on the tree,
Unfolding one by one.