Classic Poem

Fair of the ruddy cheek, and russet vest,
With eye that beams the sunshine of thy breast,
That tripping light yon heathy cliffs among,
Pour'st to the source of good, thine artless song.

Yet, thou canst quit awhile the leafy glen,
Thy thoughts of solitude's still charms divest,
To wander playful, thro' the haunts of men,
And revel in the busy, blameless, breast!

Where'er thou art, associate of the good,
Unheard, where vacant Mirth is laughing loud;
Or calm, amidst a city's noisy crowd,
Or list'ning to the warblers of the wood:

Spread o'er the guiltless cheek thy brightest glow,
Nor ask a boon that Reason can't bestow.