Classic Poem

I.

The sunbeam darting to the stream,
The birth that glows in dying,
Love's meeting hour and beauty's gleam,
And raptures born when flying;
How, if we speed o'er summits fair,
Just at each fountain dipping,
And pause to rest, in valleys rare,
Their single blisses sipping!

II.

The cup that flows for us must take
Its color from the fountain,
In whose embrace the blue skies wake,
Still dreaming of the mountain; —
We ask no better boon for us
While yet the bead is gleaming,
To snatch its single blessings thus,
Though all the rest be seeming.

III.

And still the leaf that skims the lake,
Shall satisfy our seeking;
And still the bird-note in the brake,
Be ample for our speaking; —
And still the dream at morning-tide,
When April buds awaken,
Shall welcome bring, though from our side
The other self be taken.