Classic Poem

Quitting dear friends with homeward care
In the sweet land that held the Druid,
I touched at thee, Llanbedr fair,
Thou lily of the Vale of Clwyd.

Gardens I saw, home's fringes bright; —
A homestead church, and pastoral valleys,
And mountains green of gentle might,
Luring ascent with leafy alleys.

A page from out a poet's book
It was, — choice Nature's own adorning, —
A landscape worth an angel's look, —
A smile of God on Eden's morning.

And me its lord and lady pressed
To stop and taste it's tranquil hours,
He, with his books and pictures blest,
And she, amidst her happy flowers.

I could not stay; I was not fit
For aught but what my troubles tasked me:
Forced was my smile, and dulled my wit,
I scarcely heard the lips that asked me.

Yet all that scene in Memory's frame
I bore away, a dream excelling:
And they in turn, true pardoners, came
To see me in my own poor dwelling.

They brought me faces, void of art,
Grasps of the hand, and warm expressions;
And then I knew, that either's heart
Was larger than their fair possessions.

Oh, sweet are fair Llanbedr's slopes,
Its mansion rich, its manners even:
But man's a world of boundless hopes,
Whose heart contains both earth and heaven.