Classic Poem

In the winter when the snow
Cried beneath the laden dray,
Looking on my grief I said,
" Glad am I the winter day,
Not the sparkling month of May,
Sees my love thus broken, dead. "

But alas, now May has come,
Stirred the earth to song and light,
Filled the air with whispering,
Cries my heart in fettered might,
" Love that dies in tears and night
Dies anew each day of Spring. "