Classic Poem

While the gray-pinion'd lark early mounts to the skies,
And chearily hails the sweet dawn,
And the sun, newly risen, sheds the mist from his eyes,
And smiles over mountain and lawn,
Delighted I stray by the fairy-wood side,
Where the dew-drops the crawflow'rs adorn,
And nature, array'd in her midsummer's pride,
Sweetly smiles to the smile of the morn.

Ye dark waving plantings, ye green shady bow'rs,
Your charms ever varying I view,
My soul's dearest transports, my happiest hours,
Have ow'd half their pleasures to you.
Sweet Ferguslie, hail! thou'rt the dear sacred grove,
Where first my young Muse spread her wing,
Here Nature first wak'd me to rapture and love,
And taught me her beauties to sing.