Classic Poem

Next Greece, the fairest nymph that trod
This belted globe upon, once shone
As shines the Morning Orb, long ere
The Dawn the rosy East has kissed;
High reared her sacred temples in
Olympia's shady groves, and built
There sacred altars to her gods.

Old Zeus and Phoebus oft here sat
In council with their fellow gods.
And Homer, fiery bard, was first
To smite the chords of nature's lyre;
Sweet sang he till the earth was filled
With rarest strains of rapturous song!
Then art and letters blew and blushed,
The fairest flowers of ages past,
Whose essence, spilled upon the breeze,
Is wafted still forever on
The twin deft with the flight of years;
And man in calm delight inhales
The fragrance of pure classic lore!
But Greece is gone! Her statues fair
Are mingled with the dust; each god
Has flown some fairer clime to rule,
Or, subdued, walks the dark abyss.