Classic Poem

Ye hollow vales! which echoed to my lay,
Ye streams, by whom I lov'd to weep and sigh,
Ye walks, protected from the noon-day sky,
Where oft alone I took my pensive way!
Pure cloudless air, where cooling Zephyrs play,
And birds, that o'er the pathless æther fly,
Sweet hill, that rear'st thy flow'ry head on high,
Where smit with tender passion yet I stray;
In you the same unvaried bloom I find,
But not in me, alas! who ever moan,
And change for notes of grief my joyful strains;
Here once I saw my Love: but now consign'd
To the cold grave she sleeps; and I alone
Thus come to bathe with tears her sad remains.