Classic Poem

When painfully toiling o'er mountains and moors,
With no shelter at hand from the sun's scorching heat;
How sweet when a rivulet suddenly pours
Its stream of pure water abroad at thy feet!

Or in winter's dark season, when chill'd with the cold,
Benighted, and troubled with ill boding fear:
Oh think, how delightful it is to behold,
Thro' the darkness, the light of a cottage appear!

But more sweet, more delightful, to friendship's warm heart,
While sympathy's tear-drops in silence descend
When meeting, oh! never again to depart,
We gaze on the face of a long absent friend!

When painfully toiling o'er mountains and moors,
With no shelter at hand from the sun's scorching heat;
How sweet when a rivulet suddenly pours
Its stream of pure water abroad at thy feet!

Or in winter's dark season, when chill'd with the cold,
Benighted, and troubled with ill boding fear:
Oh think, how delightful it is to behold,
Thro' the darkness, the light of a cottage appear!

But more sweet, more delightful, to friendship's warm heart,
While sympathy's tear-drops in silence descend
When meeting, oh! never again to depart,
We gaze on the face of a long absent friend!