Classic Poem

It pleased Him not I flung me thus,
so madly, o'er those wondrous meres;
though on I rush'd, full rash and rude,
yet quickly was my running stay'd;
for as I sped me to the brink,
the strain me startled from my dream.
Then woke I in that garden green;
my head upon that mound was laid,
e'en where my Pearl had strayed below.
I roused me, and fell in great dismay,
and, sighing, to myself I said,
“Now, all be as that Prince may please!”