Classic Poem

I steal apart
To the woodland's heart
When the work of the day is over,
And odours sweet
Of the forest meet
The scent of the blooming clover.

I sit and rest
By the breeze caressed
With the stately pine trees o'er me,
The wind-harp's sigh
In the branches high
And the open sea before me.

The golden light
And the ink of night
With the blue of the sky are blended
In the leaves so fine
Of the evergreen pine,
In its beauty so dark and splendid.

When every light
In the vault of night
Is trembling with deep emotion,
And a great bright line
Of white moonshine
Runs shimmering up the ocean,

I sit and rest
By the breeze caressed
With the stately pine trees o'er me,
The wind-harp's sigh
In the branches high
And the open sea before me.