Classic Poem

To sit down by some solitary man,
Hoary with years, and with a sage's look,
In some wild dell where purest waters ran,
And see him draw forth his black-letter book,
Wond'ring, and wond'ring more, as he began,
On it, and then on many an herb to look,
That he had wander'd, wearily and wide,
To pluck from jutting rocks, and woods, and mountain side;