Classic Poem

Rise again, ye ancient visions,
Let thy heart's gates wide be set,
For the joy that song awakens,
For the tears of soft regret.

Through the fir-trees let me wander,
Where the merry brooklet springs,
Where the stately red deer loiter,
Where the darling throstle sings.

Let me climb the lofty mountains
To the crag's stupendous height,
Where the castle's dim grey ruins
Rear themselves in morning's light.

I will rest awhile in silence,
Thoughtful of their ancient day,
Of old races once so mighty,
Of old splendours passed away.

Grass o'ergrows the ancient tilt-yard
Where once charged the haughty knight,
Who subdued the bravest hero,
And bore off the prize of fight.

Ivy creeps along the dais
Where once beauty gave the prize,
Vanquishing the haughty victor
With the lustre of her eyes.

Woe for victor and for victress,
Both o'ercome by Death's keen thrust;
He, the bloodless knight, scythe-emblemed,
Lays all mortals in the dust.