Classic Poem

Here is a barren crag, at whose brown feet
Patiently sits the church and gleams the spire.
Commerce has found this a deserved retreat;
Here groan the mills, and there, the household fire
Sends up its smoke above the struggling briar
And dwarfish evergreens that grow between
The stubborn rocks — that grow but to expire.
Not here the thrifty farmer's face serene —
The lumberer alone lends life to the grim scene.