Classic Poem

NOT ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN THE AUTHOR'S OWN NAME

Sweet vale, tho' I must leave
Thy green hills and thy waters,
Nor sing again at eve,
To charm thy winsome daughters,
Yet I shall fondly think of thee,
And thy fair maids will think of me,
When I am far away.

I'll think of thee, but not as men,
Who vex their souls with thinking,
With feverish thirst, the reeky fen,
Of sluggard memory drinking,
Nor shall thy maidens fair and free,
With ought of sadness think of me,
When I am far away.

The fairy lake, tho' still it seems,
Is evermore a-flowing,
A moment ends the silvery gleams
That flash as we are rowing.
Yet that smooth lake, as smooth shall flow;
And light oars flash, when gay youths' row,
When I am far away.

So may the tide of virgin life,
As smooth, as quick, as clear,
If e'er, in momentary strife,
It dimple with a tear,
As soon regain its sweet repose —
And rest in peace, because it flows,
For ever on its way.