Classic Poem

" Come, Captive, come, let us joyfully roam
O'er the green and reviving earth;
While the skies are fair, and the vocal air
Resounds with the voice of mirth:
The dew-drop lies in the violet's eyes,
And the primrose gems the grass;
On verdurous brinks, the cowslip drinks
Of the brooklets as they pass: —
But Summer is near, and I may not stay, —
Come away, man of grief — come away, come away!

" The lark sings loud in the silvery cloud,
And the thrush in the emerald bowers;
The rainbow expands o'er the smiling lands,
And glows through the twinkling showers;
The breeze, like a thief, from the bud and the leaf
Steals odours newly born,
And wantonly flings, from its viewless wings,
The breath of the blooming thorn —
But Summer is near, and I may not stay, —
Come away, man of grief — come away, come away!

" There is freedom on the hill, there is freshness in the rill —
There is health in the cheering gale;
And the stream runs bright, like a path of light,
Through the maze of the folding vale;
The wildest glen hath a charm again,
And the moor hath a look less stern; —
The cool, clear well, in the woodland dell,
Is fringed with the feathery fern:
But Summer is near, and I may not stay, —
Come away, man of grief — come away, come away!

" Glad Childhood strays through tangled ways,
In solitudes green and lone,
And Youth frolics free, with unwonted glee,
To music's inspiring tone:
Old Age with his staff, and a merry, merry laugh,
Goes forth in my bright domain:
Man, maiden, and boy, feel the spirit of joy,
That comes with my gladsome reign: —
But Summer is near, and I may not stay, —
Come away, man of grief — come away, come away! "