Classic Poem

After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains
The anxious month, relieved from its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of summer rains.
And calmest thoughts come round us; as, of leaves
Budding,--fruit ripening in stillness,--autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves,--
Sweet Sappho's cheek,--a smiling infant's breath,--
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs,--
A woodland rivulet,--a Poet's death.