Classic Poem

Fond of her country—will my Mary please
To taste her sweets produced from Maple trees:
Which Heaven profusely planted thro' the wild
Indulgent unto man—his favorite child:
Which grace the Western woods—infit for Cane,
That loves exclusively a southern plain.
Exempt from ills their heated climes produce.
In health we gain the sweet nectarean juice:
There—slaves, deprived of all that man holds dear,
Are urged to toil by whips and blows severe.
Here cheerful freemen with their infant train,
Exult in labor, sure of honest gain
Tho' dark the colour yet no stain appears,
No trace of blood, no vestiges of tears.—
For this no seaman seeks a distant land,
And meets with shipwreck on a foreign strand,
Exposed to fevers and tornado's sway,
And pirates dreadful on the wat'ry way:
But safe in waggons, with a joyful heart,
The patient Cater seeks the distant mart.
Let other nymphs their wasteful hours prolong
In midnight dances, music, and in song—
Music and song in ancient times assigned
To praise the benefactors of mankind.
Now, prostituted vile conspire their aid
In injuring the healthful blooming maid.
May'st thou be favored by the Power Divine,
And health, good humor, peace, be ever thine.