Classic Poem

Thou art the sunshine of the woods of fir;
Thou art the loud brook's song, the wild bee's hum;
Thou art the fragrance of the trickling gum
That scents the morning like a mountain myrrh.

Thy strength is like the snow's when Spring's feet stir
Its beetling loads, that down with thunder come.
Thy voice is like the call that wakes things numb
When April fills the woods with insect whirr.

Adonis was the panting southern wave,
The lazy lapping brightness at my feet;
The lemon-laden breath that Greek isles gave;

But thou, strong breeze, ineffably more sweet,
Pungent with scents that Northern forests have,
Thou in my heart hast hurled him from his seat.