Classic Poem

On Hogsback's creased and rugged side
I know a glen more deep than wide,
Wherein a grove of poplar trees —
Green, gashed with silver by each breeze —
Is hemmed about by marshalled lines
And armies of dark-tunicked pines.

In Spring, this grove's an emerald lake,
Wherein the quivering sunbeams slake
Their thirst, and gentle fish-like airs
Glide soft as sailing gossamers:
In Autumn 'tis a sunset gay
From glint of dawn till close of day,
A rich cloud that reflected shines
Among the dark peaks of the pines,
And rains reluctantly its gold
As interest to usurious mould:
In Winter 'tis a misty pool,
Motionless, luminous and cool.

If in the flight of one short year
This tiny grove may thus appear
Such changeful semblances to take
As sunset, cloud, and mist and lake,
What various wonders may men see
In heaven's august fecundity?
What shapes shall spring, what hues shall run
From dust and water, wind and sun?
And, more than all they may espy
In earth and ocean, air and sky,
What various wonders may men be
Voyaging through eternity!