Classic Poem

And then I sat me down, and gave the rein
To my wild thoughts, till many a song that rang
From boughs around where hidden warblers sang.
Recalled me from myself; then “Oh! in vain”
I said, “do these outpour the tender strain?
Can these sweet birds that with such airs harangue
Their feathered loves, like me, feel sorrow's pang?
Ah! would that I, like them, had pinions twain!
Straight would I fly to her whom I love best,
Nor vainly warbling in the woodland sing,
But chirp my prayer, and preen my plumèd crest,
And to this spot once more! her beauty bring,
And flutter round her flight with supple wing,
And lead her to my secret leafy nest.”