Classic Poem

The sweets of Evening charm the mind,
Sick of the sultry day;
The body then no more's confin'd,
But exercise with freedom join'd,
When Phaebus sheathes his ray.

The softer scenes of nature sooth
The organs of our sight;
The Zephyrs fan the meadows smooth,
And on the brook we build the booth
In pastoral delight.

While all-serene the summer moon
Sends glances thro' the trees,
And Philomel begins her tune,
Asterie too shall help her soon
With voice of skilful ease.

A nosegay every thing that grows,
And music every sound
To lull the sun to his repose;
The skies are color'd like the rose
With lively streaks around.

Of all the changes rung by Time
None half so sweet appear,
As those when thoughts themselves sublime,
And with superior natures chime
In fancy's highest sphere.