Classic Poem

Respectfully inscribed to the Archery Club.

Haste! come haste to the Faery Isle,
Deep in the Highland shades,
Where, Matteawan's clear waters smile
Around its verdant glades.
Where, silvery-like, the gleaming spray
Kisses the deep green shores,
There signs its sad and lingering lay,
And onward, dashing pours.

Haste! come haste to the Faery Isle,
The wild-vines clamber high
Over the tall old trees that pile
Their foliage to the sky;
And soft and sweet the asphodel
Comes breathing in the gale,
Like balmy odors famed to dwell
In Cashmere's fragrant vale.

Haste, come haste to the Faery Isle,
The golden sun sinks low,
And cool and deep the shadows, while
We draw the springing bow!
Then woe to him whose eyes shall see
Us poise our swift-winged dart,
For, quick as lightning's flash, shall flee
That missile to his heart.