Classic Poem

A MID the faded groves I love to hear
The falling leaf, when howling winds molest
The dim horizon, clad in gloomy vest,
Whose chearless music suits the mourner's ear.
The silent groves, the heav'ns now dark and drear,
With pleasing sadness melt the tender breast,
Though with long looks of fond farewell it rest
On brighter scenes, which deck'd the blooming year.
Though many an anxious care and lurking sigh
A dark'ning shade on joys yet present cast,
And all the finer gust of bliss destroy;
With sweet regret we hang on moments past,
Which oft to fond Reflection's partial eye
Wear the pure sunshine of unmingled joy.