Classic Poem

Among the many images of may
Brushing along its overflow of shade
Through woods all green to force oneself a way
Or tracing hedgrows where the path is made
Tis pleasant brushing by a spreading bush
To hear the rustle of a bustling wing
Of blackbird hastening out or speckled thrush
It fills the mind with many a pleasant thing
The happiness of fields—the green delight
Of summer boughs—brim ful of pleasant moods
Till half the village on a sunday night
Seems rambling out among the fields & woods
To mark from bush to bush birds sing & flye
& seek for pleasure & they know not why