Classic Poem

Apollo now hath well nigh ran his course,
The whistling ploughman goads the weary horse:
Approaching night spreads wide her sable wings,
The warbling trush his joyful vespers sings.
With hasty step the shepherd homeward goes,
To pass the peaceful night in calm repose;
The joyous brood accost the welcome fire,
That gets the food, whilst this one piles the fire,
With eager haste they ply the crackling ash,
And with each puff produce the sparkling flash.
Here vegetation spreads her wholesome store,
Thrice happy they! who never pant for more;
With grateful hearts they feast on homely food,
And thank kind heaven for its bounteous good.
Impartial Somnus waves his balmy wing,
Which makes the slaves as happy as the king.