Classic Poem

Where alone yon pale boy paces
Every heart is stricken low;
For his visage bears the traces
Of his suffering, of his woe.

Airs with tender pity laden
Strive to cool his fevered brow;
Many a coy and timid maiden
Smiles to soothe his spirit now.

From the city's noise and bustle
To the forest green he flies;
Merrily the gay leaves rustle,
Birds pipe merry melodies.

But the song is silenced wholly,
Sadly murmur leaf and tree,
When the careworn stripling slowly
Paces through the greenwood free.