Classic Poem

Methinks the ills of life I fain would shun;
But then I must shun life which is a blank:
Even in my childhood oft my spirit sank
Thinking of all that had still to be done.
Among my many friends there is not one
Like her with whom I sat upon the bank
Willow-o'er-shadowed; from whose lips I drank
A love more pure than streams that sing and run.
But many times that joy has cost a sigh;
And many times I in my heart have sought
For the old comfort, and not found it yet:
Surely in that calm day when I shall die
The painful thought will be a blessed thought,
And I shall sorrow that I must forget.