Classic Poem

I LAY me down to rest awhile
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
While summer evening's golden smile
Sleeps on thy waves, sweet Conway!
I lay me down beside thy stream,
To revel in the realms of dream,
Or mourn o'er many a ruined scheme,
Far from thy banks, sweet Conway!

The lark still lingers in the sky,
Above thy banks, sweet Conway!
And drops his image from on high,
Upon thy breast, sweet Conway!
The thrush still singeth from the shade,
The cuckoo answers from the glade,
And every bird for music made
Is on thy banks, sweet Conway!

Yon castle's clustered turrets frown
Beside thy brink, sweet Conway!
And send their feudal shadows down
Upon thy face, sweet Conway!
Their ancient reign of strength is o'er,
Their regal splendours are no more,
But thou hast yet the charms of yore—
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!

I've the Thames' vast waters flow,—
They're not like thine, sweet Conway!
I've seen the Seine meandering go,
Yet not like thee, sweet Conway!
And, save the blue and storied Rhine,
No waters may compare with thine,
For Nature's beauties all combine—
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!

There are vast mountains, stern and drear,
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
And broken fountains, grand and clear,
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
And there are wild-woods, rich and green,
And broad lands, sunny and serene,
And many a happy home between—
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!

Lo! yonder is thy “mother Sea,”
Whose arms embrace thee, Conway!
And glorious must that mother be
Whose arms embrace thee, Conway!
The clouds will take thee up in rain,
And pour thee on the earth again,
To wander through each vale and plain
That blooms around thee, Conway?

Oh! for a pure and tranquil life
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
Afar from towns of sin and strife,
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
With one unchanged companion nigh,
To watch me with affection's eye,
How calmly could I live and die
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
Oh! that the world might hear my name
Beyond thy banks, sweet Conway!
And the enchanting voice of fame
Float o'er thy waters, Conway!
Oh! that the great, the good, the brave
Might come to muse beside thy wave,
And bend above my simple grave
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!

The sun is down, the birds are still
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
The mist is creeping up the hill,
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!
The waning of another day
Will see me musing far away,
No more in happy thought to stray
Upon thy banks, sweet Conway!