Classic Poem

By the rock the water leapeth,
By the elm the wind-blast sweepeth,
Where at night the milch cow sleepeth,
While, as yet, no leaves may fall;
Round the dell the roadway bendeth,
O'er the fields the footpath wendeth,
Glades begin where woodland endeth
Far without the garden wall.

Where he will the rider flitteth,
Turning by the roads he witteth;
When he will the walker sitteth
Where some cool-air'd shade may fall;
But though ev'ry passer spieth
Field and house, as on he hieth,
'Tis not ev'ry one that prieth
There within the garden wall.

There the ruddy apple groweth,
There the sweetsmell'd blossom bloweth,
There the blushing maiden goeth,
Fairer than the rose's ball.
Blest is he whose time onfleeteth,
Far too fast, when'er he meeteth
Smiles from her, as there she greeteth
Him within the garden wall.