Classic Poem

Henry comes! No sweeter music
Ever strikes upon my ear
Than his dear advancing footstep,
Which I sit and long to hear!

Henry comes! From toil returning,
Sick of gloom and worldly strife,
O! let peace and joy attend him
In the presence of a wife!

Hence then every bitter feeling!
Hence each low and sordid care!
Let my thoughts be pure and gentle
Fit for him I love to share!

Let my soul be fresh and bounding
As the merry mountain brook,
Cheering him with tons of gladness,
Yielding to his earnest look!

Like that clear transparent streamlet,
All its liquid depths unclose,
And like that a faithful mirror
Which his soul, reflecting, shows!