Because the sky is blue; because blithe May 
Masks in the wren's note and the lilac's hue; 
Because -- in fine, because the sky is blue 
I will read none but piteous tales to-day. 
Keep happy laughter till the skies be gray, 
And the sad season cypress wears, and rue; 
Then, when the wind is moaning in the flue, 
And ways are dark, bid Chaucer make us gay. 
But now a little sadness! All too sweet 
This springtide riot, this most poignant air, 
This sensuous world of color and perfume. 
So listen, love, while I the woes repeat 
Of Hamlet and Ophelia, and that pair 
Whose bridal bed was builded in a tomb.