Classic Poem

Less because Petrarch and his Muse have made
These hills and streams immortal as his fame,
Linked in melodious verse with Laura's name,
Than for thy sake, O Nature! have I strayed
To this wild region. In the rocky glade.
Deep at the mountain's base, the fountains keep
Their ceaseless gushing, till the waters leap
A mighty torrent from the endless shade;
A moment linger there in glassy rest,
Break on the craggy steep with foaming crest,
Then thunder through the chasm, swift and strong!
So burst the Poet's passion from his breast,
Noiseless and deep and pure, to flood erelong
The listening tracts of Time with ceaseless tides of song!