Classic Poem

O poets, seated on Parnassus' height,
Or ranged in groups upon its sides! I hear
Your deathless songs hummed low, or ringing clear
To drown the world's noise in your sweet delight.
And glad am I to keep you still in sight,
Though to your high seats I may not come near.
For, as the stars do make the heavens dear,
While we on earth walk through the dreary night;

So dost thou shine upon us, and send down
The music of thy rhythmic motions sweet
To make us know that harmony still reigns.
Could I but trust thou wouldst not on me frown,
I'd climb up to the footstool of thy seat,
And with my pipe re-echo thy glad strains.