Classic Poem

Some men are Nature's favorites; they were born
Beneath the canopy of trees in May,
When Beauty fills the sky, and from the bud
Breathes the fresh odor; when the merry birds
Go singing through the air, and whirls aloft,
In maddest paroxysms of delight,
The wanton mimic of a thousand tongues,
Pouring a torrent of impetuous song
That stuns the grove to silence. She has been
The gentle mother, leading them away
From the immure of the unnatural town,
To the free homestead of the ancient trees;
Bestowing them the life that there alone
Makes life a dear romance. They have gone forth
And brought her flowers, and fill'd her lap with them;
And she has told them, of the life of each,
Most ravishing stories. Oh! how very sweet
Thus to be taught! No musty books — no rules,
In dull, damp dungeons, shutting out the sky,
And drudging the free fancy with a weight
That leaves it wingless after. — 'Tis my joy
That I have thus been tutored! Nature came
And took me for her charge when I was young,
And brought me up herself. I was not taught
Vain histories of schoolmen — men of cloud
And vapor, with philosophies of straw,
That strive in bubble-hunting. Ancient tongues
That, having answer'd for their day, had gone
Into forgetfulness, ne'er tortured mine!
Destined for life — the present and the real —
Condemn'd to its necessities, and full
Of all its glorious conquests — its new truths
And coming victories — I was not vex'd
With frigid phantoms of philosophy
At midnight in my chamber — ghosts of doubt
And speculation, that, in all their eyes,
No speculation wore — when the broad heavens
Were hung with forms of rare intelligence,
Teachers of heart and fancy — twiring forms,
The herds of eyes, the numerous flocking stars,
Gazing down on me, and imploring mine!
The present was my own! I made it mine, —
Enjoying it, the past was mine as well; —
I lived the life to the world, as still the world
Has render'd life to the living — yielding man
Experience of his father in his own;
Trod the same ground that they had travell'd o'er,
The sage and soldier of dim ages gone,
In the same company. — What did I need,
With the same feelings and affections fill'd —
For I drew milk from breasts which they had drawn —
To toil through their adventures? They were mine,
Already in my progress. I was taught
By the same tutor — happy that I was!