Classic Poem

The wood has glades, and shelter'd shades,
Where tree-heads, high, show little sky;
And wind-flow'rs, where the wood yields room
And light for flow'rs to grow and bloom—
And there, when I have time to range,
I fain would wander for a change.

The fields have light, and scope of sight,
And brook and bridge, and linch and ridge,
And flocks of sheep bedotting brows
Of hills, and meads with dairy cows—
And there, when I have time to range,
I like to wander for a change.

The village street has souls to meet,
And village roads have men's abodes;
And one house at the village end
Still holds for me a faithful friend—
And when I thither chance to range
I wish no better for a change.