Classic Poem

Bard of the woods, thy tributary lay,
Though brief and simple, is a welcome boon;
Thus may our souls in sympathy commune,
Through the rude song of many a future day.
Thou walkest forth with Nature, whose sweet way
Is ever open, lovely, and serene;
Thy harp is strung to Liberty—the queen
Whose voice all hearts instinctively obey
The Muse hath moved thee with a gentle sway,
And plucked thee flowers of fancy here and there;
Long may she soothe thee in the time of care,
When things less pure might lead thy soul astray;
May all of good which thou hast wished for me,
Fall back with seven-fold bounty upon thee!