Classic Poem

I.

Come, Fanny, sweet is the evening breeze,
And cool is its sacred sigh;
And gently it quivers the aspen trees,
As it softly passes by:
Come, let us taste the pure blue breath
That mountain wights inhale;
And travel with me o'er the flowery heath,
Whilst I whisper a kind love-tale.

II.

I'll tell thee how the warrior came,
With laurels round his head,
— Not as cowards come, wrapt in their shame,
With hearts of panting dread —
And how the maid of his hopes drew nigh,
To welcome her warrior knight, —
With a soul of joy in her pale blue eye,
And a face of beauty bright.

III.

And I'll tell thee how in lowly cot
The shepherd woos his bride,
When Pastoral cares are quite forgot,
And she sits close by his side:
And how their vows are more sincere,
In their humble domicile;
Than the learned tones of a mighty Peer,
Whose heart knows more of guile.

IV.

And last, I'll speak my secret mind —
What I would fain impart;
Oh, Fanny, say, wilt thou be kind,
To affection's fondest heart?
Then, come and taste the evening breeze,
For sweet is its sacred sigh;
And we'll make a bower 'mid the moonlit trees,
Apart from the vulgar eye.