Classic Poem

Sweet sounds of falling waters, cool and clear,
The crystal streams, her playmates, far away,
Oft, oft their dulcet music mock'd her ear,
As, restless, on her fever'd couch she lay;
Strange visions hover'd round, and harpings high,
From spirit-bands, and then her lustrous eye
Welcomed the call; but earth resumed its sway,
And all its sacred ties convulsive twined.
How hard to spread the wing, and leave the loved behind!