Classic Poem

Sigh not for palm and vine;
Nor for the sun-loved land which palm and vine are shading;
Call not its verdure glorious and unfading,
Nor its bright air delicious and divine!
That chiller land of thine,
Where spring the oak and pine,
Without or palm or vine,
Or glossy olive-grove,
Is worthier of thy love.

Sigh not for cloudless skies
Nor for the magic vales o'er which these skies are bending;
Praise not the glowing orb which every hour is sending
Its light-flood, never ebbing, never ending,
On the fair Paradise
That underneath it lies;
Pouring o'er earth and sea
Its breathless brilliancy
Filling the summer air
With its untempered glare.

Love thine own happier land;
The greenest land which earth's clear streams are washing,
The freshest shore on which earth's sea is dashing.
Covet no sunnier strand
Gleaming with golden sand.
If thou wilt still be sighing
For fairer climes than this,
For realms of richer bliss;
Sigh for the land of the undying,
On which no blight nor curse is lying;
Where all is holiness
And everlasting peace;
Where God, upon His throne,
Gives joy for aye;
The Lamb, the light and sun
Sheds glorious day.