Classic Poem

When I heard the hermit thrush
Singing in the hollow,
It seemed to me I had no choice
But to rise and follow.

So I went down a little hill
And found his willow tree,
But when I came near to him
He would not sing for me.

I went back to my garden
That is set on a hill,
And now at morn and evening
I hear him singing still.

Some there are that call you,
And some that bid you stay,
If you wish to hold a friend
Let him go his way!