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.