Classic Poem

I watched my flowers grow and brighten barren places;
They smiled at me the whole day long with brilliant faces
The blues and reds, the white and yellow in morning dews
Drove out the hurt of bitter grief and other bruise,
But now the drought will blight the tender buds and leaves.
And parch the earth as the winds blow on scorching sprees,
'Til July's heat and August sun are duly past,
Yet many things are fine and good at weary last
For if the rain should come, good seed would surely die.
In truth, I should be thankful for a cloudless sky
To ripen seed that sprout and grow in barren places.
And wink at me next year with bright and smiling faces