Classic Poem

Farewell now, poesy's secret cell, thy ordered grace,
Hendre Fechan, farewell.
Ye books which of song's mysteries tell,
Songs radiant fair, to you farewell.

A house was mine wherein secure my life to lead,
That should till death endure,
Food, drink, and fire, provision sure—
God's grace did all my needs procure.

In place of Hendre's hampering business vain, in place
Of this world's moil and pain,
A Homestead new I shall attain
In Heaven, nor earthward turn again.

Farewell, my trees, ye lovely woodland throng of birds
That sang with lucent tongue,
Groves where ye carolled loud and long,
And all ye paths, the haunt of song.