Classic Poem

The wych-elm shakes its sequins to the ground,
With every wind the chestnut blossoms fall:
Down by the stream the willow-warblers sing,
And in the garden to a merry sound
The mown grass flies. The fantail pigeons call
And sidle on the roof; a murmuring
Of bees about the woodbine-covered wall,
A child's sweet chime of laughter — this is spring.
Luminous evenings when the blackbird sways
Upon the rose and tunes his flageolet,
A sea of bluebells down the woodland ways, —
O exquisite spring, all this — and yet — and yet —
Kinder to me the bleak face of December
Who gives no cheating hopes, but says — " Remember. "