Classic Poem

From lamplight and an aged leaf,
I turn'd to the night air:
Large Autumn stars bent o'er the sheaf:
A sweet fresh breeze was there.

The gentle freshness fann'd my brow,
And dried some weary dews:
I thought ‘in seeking knowledge now;
Great Nature I abuse.

‘This Soul speaks from his scornful vault
A language dead & hard:
With Nature I am ne'er at fault;
Her gates are never barred:

‘And I an infant at her breast
Draw milk of purest life—’
Wise Admonition checkt the rest;
Like bubbles burst the strife.

My spirit like a placid lake
Reflected the great scene:
Scarce thinking, yet with thought awake,
I markt the village green.

‘Beneath the roots of fleeting things
We pass, & are as they:
But Knowledge gives the spirit wings,
And Wisdom points the way.

‘Or rather pluck with hand that mars
The daisy of an hour
Or in yon gardens of the stars,
Gather a deathless flower?