Classic Poem

Take me to the hillside, take me to the rillside,
Where the scarlet pimpernel and starry daisies grow,
Where the woodbine wreathing, greets the zephyr's breathing,
Where the foam-pearls dance upon the rippies as they flow
Take me to the valleys where thick shady alleys
Will lead me to red clover-fields and plains of yellow sheaves,
And I'll sing to bees and flowers, I'll tell the woodland bowers
That the heart brings back its old love to the sweet, green leaves.

Take me where the birds fly, take me where the herds lie
Where the ringdove nestles, and the browsing heifer lows,
Where the brake will hide me from the fawn beside me,
Where the pebbly runnel kisses wild moss, reed and rose.
Take me where the sunlight only sheds a dun light,
Where the arm of lady birch with oak and alder weaves,
And their branches bent with glory shall tell the same old story,
That bird and poet sing the best mid sweet, green leaves.