Classic Poem

Thou green and blooming, cool and shaded hill,
Where sits, now songful, now in thought, thy guest,
By whom the world's of glory dispossessed,
And heavenly spirits are made credible —
My heart, which quitted me for her (what skill
He showed; and if he come not back, shows best!)
Goes on relating, how that foot hath pressed,
And how those eyes the sward are softening still.
He says, and with a shrug at every pace,
" Oh were that caitiff here a little now,
Who is so tired of tears and of his lot! "
She smiles, and how unequal is the case,
I being heartless stone, and Eden thou,
Oh hallowed, fortunate, delightsome spot!