Classic Poem

Along thy wood-lanes wild, or shrubby lawns,
Or hollow dells, or glens befring'd with thorn;
Where from its ferny lair, at early morn,
The forester alarms the timid fawn,
I would 'twere mine to wander;—or when fade
The gleams of evening into shadowy night:
What time on many a stem or grassy blade
The glow-worm hangs her fairy emerald light,
I would behold the moon-beams fall among
The far retiring trees, and lengthening glades,
And listen the low wind, that thro' the shades
Conveys the night-bird's soft love-labour'd song:
For here the soul unruffled feels its powers,
And seeks the Hermit Peace within his forest bowers.