Classic Poem

Beneath the pensive willow's shade,
As evening melts in yonder sky,
In careless ease inglorious laid,
My dreaming moments hover by.

Why should the mind be racked with care?
Why should the bosom beat with pain?
Our hopes all end in blank despair,
Our strife for power and wealth is vain.

They cannot dry one trickling tear,
They cannot hush one bursting sigh,
They cannot quell the gloomy fear
Of death, or bid its phantoms fly.

Then all in peace inglorious laid,
At dewy evening's quiet dawn,
O, let me trace the mellow shade
Advancing o'er the silent lawn.

Without one wish beyond my lyre,
I'd all my careless hours employ
In music, and awake the wire
To tones of grief and trills of joy.