Classic Poem

Yes , I behold the much-lov'd fields again,
And, full of chearfulness, at breezy dawn
The varied prospect view of hill and lawn,
And glitt'ring spires, that crown the beech-clad plain:
Such tender tears, as musing Poets shed,
Steal down my cheek, the tears of Joy and Peace;
And Heav'n I thank, who bids my sorrow cease,
And raises from the couch my languid head,
Where I invok'd from ling'ring Death relief;
But God is merciful: be thou my guide,
Dread Pow'r; and teach me calmly to abide
Thy wise disposal, whether Joy or Grief;
Thankful for all the good thy will bestows,
And, though too feeling, patient under woes.