Classic Poem

Poets may sing in raptured verse
The glory of Italian skies,
Or praise in language sweet and terse
The Spanish ladies' dazzling eyes;
But be it mine to languish in
The smiles of maids as rich and fair
As any that the world has seen,
And sing of balmy skies and air
And fields as peaceful and as green.
Marian, thou village of my joy!
I love thee as a babe its toy,
For thou art all that's dear to me —
Since 'neath thy oaks I first did see
My wealth of boyish hopes expand
And built those hopes in clay and sand.
O boyhood's dream! It is so fair!
A dream where joy is found in care.
Now, in my manhood, let me turn
To scenes for which I often yearn,
To forms departed that I knew —
The aged, young, the fickle, true —
Let me recount one simple tale
Of all the many on the scale
Where memory weighs her garnered store,
And lingers long its value o'er.