Classic Poem

Know'st thou the land where bloom the citron rows,
In dusky leaves the golden orange glows,
And soft a wind is borne from bluest sky,
And stands the myrtle still, the laurel high?
Know'st thou the land?
O there, O there
Would I with thee, O my beloved, fare!

Know'st thou the house? On pillars rest the beams.
The hall it shines; the shimmering room it gleams;
And marble statues stand and look at me:
" What have men done, O my poor child, to thee! "
Know'st thou the house?
O there, O there
Would I with thee, O my protector, fare!

Know'st thou the hill, its path in clouds and gray?
The mule he seeks through mountain mist his way;
In caverns dwell the dragons' ancient broods;
Down plunge the cliffs, and over them the floods.
Know'st thou the hill?
O there, O there
Lies our own way. O father, let us fare!