Classic Poem

Be not hesitant with me,
For I go to Arcady.
Winter is stern monarch here,
And without the window there,
Scornful of the leafless year,
Breathes his frost upon the air;
Now from all the hapless trees
Every frisky dryad flees.
Be not hesitant with me —
Let us go to Arcady!

Be not hesitant with me —
Come and go to Arcady!
We have drunk the summer's wine,
Every yellow drop is gone;
Plucked the last grape from the vine.
Yonder woodlands hide the fawn.
Where beneath the young moon's glance
Lithesome dryads throng and dance.
Be not hesitant with me —
To the woods of Arcady!