Classic Poem

Close by the flowery purple hill,
Hymettus, may be found
A sacred fountain, and a plot
Of green and lovely ground

'Tis in a copse. The strawberry
Grows blushing through the grass;
And myrtle, rosemary, and bay
Quite perfume all the place.

Nor is the tamarisk wanting there;
Nor clumps of leafy box;
Nor slender cytisus; nor yet
The pine with its proud locks.

Touched by the zephyrs and sweet airs,
Which there in balm assemble,
This little world of leaves, and all
The tops of the grass tremble