Classic Poem

I would follow the sun when the north winds arise,
And Autumn has taken its blue from the skies;
I would go, with the birds and the flowers in their train,
Like a sylph, o'er the wide-rolling waves of the main,
And seek on a warmer and lovelier shore
A home, till the dark storms of winter are o'er.

'Tis pleasant to stray in a tropical grove,
Where flowers, fruits, and foliage are blended above,
Where the sky, as it opens so vividly through,
Is pure as a spirit in mantle of blue,
Where the wind comes perfumed from the orange and lime,
And the myrtle is ever in bloom in that clime,
Where the citron its green and its gold ever wears,
And the birds are for ever caressing in pairs: —
O, 't is pleasant awhile in those groves to remain,
Till Spring comes to visit and charm us again.

But I never could stay when the winter has fled,
And the flowers of the valley awake from the dead,
When April has moistened the earth with its shower,
And May is enamelling meadow and bower,
When the woods are in leaf, and the orchards are blooming,
And the hill in the gray mist of morning is looming,
When the air is as sweet from the pear-tree and clover,
As a wind that has travelled rich Araby over,
When the thickets are living with music and wooing,
And the light wings of swallows their mates are pursuing: —
O, when mountain birds call me, I cannot remain,
So away to the land of my fathers again!