Classic Poem

While thou far hence on Albion's southern shore
View'st her white rocks, and hear'st her ocean roar;
Through scenes, where we together stray'd, I stray,
And think o'er talk of many a long-past day.
That favourite park now tempts my steps again,
On whose green turf so oft at ease we' have lain;
While Hertford's turrets rose in prospect fair,
And my fond thought beheld my Sylvia there;
And much the Muse rehears'd in careless lays
The Lover's sufferings and the Beauty's praise
Those elm-crown'd fields now oft my walk invite,
Whence Lee's wide vale lies pleasant to the sight;
Where, as our view o'er towns and villas roll'd,
Our fancy imag'd how they look'd of old:
When Gothic mansions there uprear'd their towers,
Their halls for banquet, and for rest their bowers.
But, O my Friend! whene'er I seek these scenes
Of lovely prospects and delightful greens,
Regardless idly of the joy possess'd,
I dream of days to come, of days more bless'd,
When thou with me shalt wander here once more,
And we shall talk again our favourite topics o'er,
On Time's smooth current as we glide along,
Thus Expectation ever tunes her song:
‘Fair these green banks with gaudy flowerets bloom,
Sweet breathe these gales, diffusing rich perfume,
Heed, heed them not, but carelessly pass by,
To-morrow, fairer sweeter will supply.’
To-morrow comes—the same the Syren's lay—
‘To-morrow sweeter gales, and flowerets still more gay.’