Classic Poem

Go forth, go forth, when leafy June
Has pinned on every hedgerow briar
The frail wild rose, that heaves in tune
With each soft breath that they respire
Whose bosoms wear the brave attire.

And if the meek grass companies,
That shrink to cross man's beaten ways,
Smile at the shew with loving eyes,
And seem to prank their pride, to praise
The fairest comers of their days:

And if the nobler forms that lead
High nature to the changeful skies,
The stately trees, seem to give heed:
Do thou too of this joy make prize,
To store with thy good memories.