Classic Poem

1

I seek her in the shady grove,
And by the silent stream;
I seek her where my fancies rove,
In many a happy dream:
I seek her where I find her not,
In spring and summer weather, —
My thoughts paint many a happy spot,
But we ne'er meet together.

2

The trees and bushes speak my choice;
And in the summer shower,
I often hear her pleasant voice,
In many a silent hour.
I see her in the summer brook;
In blossoms sweet and fair,
In every pleasant place I look,
My fancy paints her there.

3

The wind blows through the forest tree,
And cheers the pleasant day.
There her sweet voice is sure to be,
To lull my cares away: —
The very hedges find a voice,
So does the gurgling rill:
But still the object of my choice,
Is lost and abscent still.