Classic Poem

I.

A LOFT in air the shrill lark sings,
The swallow shakes her twitt'ring wings,
The Morn unveils her radiant eyes,
And opes the portal of the skies,
Arise, my love, my Laura, rise.

II.

The breathing field is rich with sweets,
The eye, the ear, new transport meets,
The still wind, balmy-blowing, sighs,
And Echo sounds, in soft replies,
Arise, my love, my Laura, rise.

III.

The Spring forbids her buds to break,
In envy of thy fairer cheek,
The dew-drops, deck'd in varying dyes,
Light up their lamps, which light supplies,
Then rise, my love, my Laura, rise.

IV.

And with his purple pinions bound,
Lo, Cupid walks thy cot around,
And, ever and anon, he cries,
" Now Cupid at thy window lies, "
Then rise, my love, my Laura, rise.