Classic Poem

But on a sweet soft tranquil eve of spring
He stood upon a terrace. Gay within
Rose the rich music, and there seemed to cling
Memories of youth to that melodious din.
Here a sweet lady touched the cithern's string,
Whence passionate melody of love to win.
White fell the moonlight on the palace-plinth:
Odorous were all the lawns with hyacinth.