Classic Poem

I sit among green shady valleys oft
Listening to echo-winds sighing of woe;
The grass and flowers are strong and sweet below,
Yea, I am tired and the smooth turf is soft.
I sit and think and never look aloft
Save to the tops of a tall poplar row
That glisten in the wind, whispering low
Of sudden sorrow reaching those who laughed.
A very drowsy fountain bubbles near
Catching pale sunbeams o'er it wandering;
Its waters are so clear the stones look through:—
Then sitting by its lazy stream I hear
Silence more loud than any other thing,
What time the trees weep o'er me honeydew.