Classic Poem

W HOE'ER thou art, from life's low joys refined;
Of nature, and the first, eternal mind
Enamoured; welcome to these modern shades;
Thy genuine worship needs no classick aids;
Nor PHoeBUS ; nor the nine Aonian maids.

Objects this rude, this humble roof surround,
Which aggrandize, which consecrate the ground.
Here let thy soul it's noble scope enjoy;
And deem a palace but a childish toy.
While the descending sun attracts the sight;
The fancy charms with varied tints of light;
Or when the moon, with her inspiring ray
Beams on the poet's mind a softer day;
Then view the mead, the stream, the wood, the sky;
And paper houses with ESCURIALS vie.

Or, if thou readest here, those deathless lines,
Where the sublime that conquers HOMER shines;
While EDEN it's expanded bloom displays;
Or, to " the living throne; the sapphire blaze, "
While fancy soars, on bold, MILTONIAN wings;
Look down on lords; on ministers, and kings.