Classic Poem

Fled are the summer hours of joy and love!
The brilliant season of delight is o'er
Alone mid leafless woods I silent rove
The voice so dear enchants these bowers no more!
Yet sweet the stillness of this calm retreat,
As toward the sunny bank I pensive stray,
The muse affords her consolations sweet,
And sooths with memory's charms my lonely way—
Here led by Flora o'er the pathless wild
I woo sweet Nature in her private haunts
The rarer flower which long neglected smiled
My curious eye unspeakably enchants—
Ev'n now the season our mild Autumn yields
Forbids not yet my timid foot to roam,
A languid Sun illumes yet verdant fields
And many a lingering blossom yet can bloom—
While smiling science shews her Withering's page.
And half unveils her most attractive face,
Reveres the memory of the Swedish sage
And bids me nature's charms delighted trace
But if the gloomy clouds or northern blast
Endear the comforts of our social hearth,
How swift the calm domestic hours are past!
How far superior to the hours of mirth!—
Oft when my heart the call of joy would spurn
By sad involuntary gloom opprest,
To thee my plaintive harp I languid turn
Thy silver sounds can sooth my soul to rest—
Or wrapt in loved imagination's dream
I hear the voice I see the form so dear,
In visionary charms they present seem
The well known accents vibrate on mine ear—
I see those eyes of bright celestial blue,
Those laughing eyes beam love and sympathy,
And o'er the mantling cheek the rosy hue
The blush of kindling hope and tender joy—
I have not lost thee then my soul's best part!
I still can hear thee talk of love and bliss!
Can pour out all the fulness of my heart,
Oh what felicity can vie with this!
How oft will fancy thro' the watchful nights
Picture thy form my sorrows to beguile,
The glance of soft affection now delights
Now archly gay I see thy sportive smile
I see thee oft with pensive tender eye
Mark our blue hills thy gay horizon bound
While fond imagination with a sigh
Measures the space of the far distant ground—
Beyond those hills constrained a while to dwell
Full many a lonely hour the thought can cheer
The shades of sorrow oft it can dispel
And turn to tenderness the saddest tear—
But thou whose image never quits this heart
Art thou unmindful of thine absent love
Ah no! I bid the cruel thought depart
And each suggestion of distrust reprove—
And yet too oft awaking from my trance,
My brilliant day-dream of unreal joy,
I think with anguish that thy tender glance
Has charmed in vain my captivated eye—
Sad victim of each heart forboding care
I think with pity on my future lot
Even now some happier eye thy smiles may share
Thy vows of tenderness to me forgot—
On such sad doubts each trembling thought employed
Oh what a dreary silence there appears!
Life offers nothing but a joyless void
While my youth wastes in unavailing tears—
Thou canst not see me in those cruel hours
Thou knowest not Love but as he smiles and charms
Thy stronger mind feels not dejection's powers
Nor knows the pang which tenderness alarms—
Yet let thine heart the pains of absence share,
Oh! be but constant and I yet am blest,
Alive to each suspicion kindly spare
The trembling feelings of this anxious breast!—