Classic Poem

Sing a song of Spring-time,
—The world is going round,
Blown by the south wind:
—Listen to its sound.
“Gurgle” goes the mill-wheel,
—“Cluck” clucks the hen;
And it's O for a pretty girl
—To kiss in the glen.

Sing a song of Summer,
—The world is nearly still,
The mill-pond has gone to sleep,
—And so has the mill.
Shall we go a-sailing,
—Or shall we take a ride,
Or dream the afternoon away
—Here, side by side?

Sing a song of Autumn,
—The world is going back;
They glean in the corn-field,
—And stamp on the stack.
Our boy, Charlie,
—Tall, strong, and light:
He shoots all the day
—And dances all the night.

Sing a song of Winter,
—The world stops dead;
Under snowy coverlid
—Flowers lie abed.
There's hunting for the young ones
—And wine for the old,
And a sexton in the churchyard
—Digging in the cold.