Classic Poem

S TREPHON — how gay the changing scenes!
The sun-beams gild the opening greens,
No chrystal brook, in fetters bound,
Nor hoary frost, enchains the ground.
The feather'd wantons, how they sing!
Those tuneful warblers of the spring.
The primrose and the violet too,
What fragrant smell! what modest hue!
Imprison'd nature, now is free,
This is the muse's jubilee.
No noxious fogs, distract the head,
Nor smoaky vapours, dullness spread.
Titan 's bright rays, must clear the brain,
And wing the soaring tuneful strain.
Hark! how the gentle zephyrs play,
And o'er the verdant meadows stray,
The limpid rivulets, murmuring roll,
To sooth the passions of the soul,
These charms, inspiring, oh! what breast,
The pleasing impulse, can resist?
Come then — and natures voice obey,
And joyn the concert with your lay.