Classic Poem

Forward to Creçi: Helen must be there.
Through grassy glades I ride, o'er chalk-veined hills,
By many noisy rivulets, winding fair.
'Mid clusters of the dancing daffodils.
As sinks the sun I drink my native air,
The nestling swallows' little liquid trills,
The robins singing in the evenglome,
Make the first music that I hear at home.