Classic Poem

Grin , grin, ye crimson Giants, grin your worst,
You savage guardians of the place of peace!
Wild torrent, never may your music cease!
You leafy crags, from whose grim heart outburst
The sacred fountains where they quench their thirst,
The dreamy pilgrims of the misty shrine,
The silent thinkers of the thought divine,
Receive me, me the stranger, me the first
Who, from the restless keen unthinking race,
A wanderer from the world that knows you not,
The busy world of noise and strain and stress,
Have come to ask of you a resting place,
To taste one moment of your quiet lot,
Your perfect peace and deep forgetfulness.