Classic Poem

When Fancy takes flight
To the realms of Delight,
Or strays, my dear friend, to Elysium's sweet bow'rs;
When Arcadia's soft breeze
In her numbers shall please,
For you will she cull the most exquisite flow's.

But when to rude cliffs
Her eye she uplifts,
To mountains or desarts her course she'll pursue!
Though wildly she traces
Such terrible places —
My dear, there's no lodging for Reason and you!