Classic Poem

And now that you are gone beyond recalling
And I must walk the solitary ways,
April will find me sparing of its praise,
A laggard even, when the May comes calling.
I fear the hours will seem not so enthralling
On the fawn hills, over the purple bays,
As when you shared with me the dawn of days,
As when you watched with me the shadows falling.

And when June comes, and all the valleys through
The daisies spin their yellow disks again,
My heart will turn away and call it vain!
Not knowing spring or summer without you
To draw the sombre colours from my brain,
Transmuting all the greys to gold and blue.