Classic Poem

Much do I owe thee for the passing gleams
Of verse, along my weary pathway thrown:
Musical verse, that came like sound of streams
Heard from afar, and in whose silver tone
My soul the happy melodies could own
That gladden'd childhood—like the softest breeze
Breathing at eve from leafy copses lone,
Mix'd with the song of birds, and hum of bees,
With deeper notes between like sounds of mighty seas.