Classic Poem

Down in a vale, among poor swains,
With each young year's returning green,
When sang the larks their earliest strains,
A fair and wondrous maid was seen.

That vale was not her native place,
And whence she came could no one tell;
For soon was lost her every trace,
When once the maiden took farewell.

A blessing came where she drew nigh,
And widely opened every heart;
Yet from her pure and lofty eye
Presumptuous footsteps stood apart.

She brought with her both fruits and flowers,
Matured in other, sunnier fields,
Where Nature, in her southern bowers,
A glow of milder radiance yields.

To each she gave his heart's desire,—
Gave flowers to these, and fruits to those;
The bounding youth, the bending sire,
Each with his present homeward goes.

A welcome waited every guest;
But when drew near a loving pair,
Them gave she of her gifts the best,—
Of all her flowers, the fairest there.