Classic Poem

Here sounded words of dear old folk,
Of this dear ground,
Where ivy wound
About this ribbed oak.
And still their words, their words now gone,
Are dear to me that linger on.

There saw I comely neighbours pass,
With shades to slide
Below their side,
Along the flow'ry grass.
And now, their shades, their shades now gone,
Still hallow ground they fell upon.

But could they come where then they stroll'd,
However young
Might sound their tongue,
Their shades would show them old.
So sweet are shades, the shades now shown,
The shades of trees they all have known.

These ashen poles, that shine so tall,
Are still too young
To have upsprung
In days when I was small;
But you, stout oak, you oak so stout,
Were here when my first moon ran out.