Classic Poem

Singer of Innisfree and Wandering Aengus ,
Put on your clothes and smite the “blooming lyre”
You smote erewhile. Sing us the songs you sang us—
Of Cathleen and The Land of Heart's Desire .
Walk with us through long dappled grass at golden noon,
And pluck at eve “the silver apples of the moon.”
Too long in alien fields you've been a rover;
Back to the fairies, fogs, and Druid stuff!
Be like the thrush, who “sings each song twice over,”
Knowing that we shall never have enough.
Else we may fancy that you never can recapture
(As Mr. Browning wrote) that “first fine careless rapture.”