Classic Poem

O, who will show me those delights on high?
Echo I.

Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know.
Echo No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?
Echo Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide?
Echo Bide.
What leaves are they? Impart the matter wholly.
Echo Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of bliss?
Echo Yes.
Then tell me, what is that supreme delight?
Echo Light.
Light to the mind: what shall the will enjoy?
Echo Joy.
But are there cares and business with the pleasure?
Echo Leisure.

Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they perséver?