Classic Poem

Late on a breezy vernal eve
When breezes wheeled their whirling flight;
I wandered forth; and I believe
I never saw so sweet a sight.

It nodded in the breeze
It rustled in mine ear;
Fairest of blossomed trees
In hill or valley, far or near:

No tree that grew in hill or vale
Such blithesome blossoms e'er displayed:
They laughed and danced upon the gale;
They seemed as they could never fade:
As they could never fade they seemed;
And still they danced, now high, now low;
In very joy their colours gleamed:
But whether it be thus or no;
That while they danced upon the wind
They felt a joy like humankind:
That this blithe breeze which cheerly sung
While the merry boughs he swung;
Did in that moment, while the bough
Whispered to his gladsome singing:
Feel the pleasures that even now
In my breast are springing:
And whether, as I said before,
These golden blossoms dancing high,
These breezes piping through the sky
Have in themselves of joy a store:
And mingling breath and murmured motion
Like eddies of the gusty ocean,
Do in their leafy morris bear
Mirth and gladness through the air:
As up and down the branches toss,
And above and beneath and across
The breezes brush on lusty pinion
Sportive struggling for dominion:
If living sympathy be theirs
And leaves and airs,
The piping breeze and dancing tree
Are all alive and glad as we:
Whether this be truth or no
I cannot tell, I do not know;
Nay--whether now I reason well,
I do not know, I cannot tell.
But this I know, and will declare,
Rightly and surely this I know;
That never here, that never there,
Around me, aloft, or alow;
Nor here nor there, nor anywhere
Saw I a scene so very fair.
And on this food of thought I fed
Till moments, minutes, hours had fled:
And had not sudden the church-chimes
Rung out the well-known peal I love;
I had forgotten Peter Grimes,
His nuts and cyder in the apple-grove:
I say, and I aver it true,
That had I not the warning heard
Which told how late it grew,
(And I to Grimes had pledged my word;)

In that most happy mood of mind
There like a Statue had I stood, till now:
And when my trance was ended
And on my way I tended,
Still, so it was, I know not how,
But passed it not away, that piping wind:

For as I went, in sober sooth
It seemed to go along with me;
I tell you now the very truth,
It seemed part of myself to be:
That in my inner self I had
Those whispering sounds which made me glad.
Now if you feel a wish dear Jones!
To see these branches dancing so;
Lest you in vain should stir your bones,
I will advise you when to go:
That is, if you should wish to see
This piping, skipping Barberry:
(For so they call the shrub I mean,
Whose blossomed branches thus are seen,
Uptossing their leafy shrouds
As if they were fain to spring
On the whirl-zephyr's wing,
Up to the clouds.)
If Jacob Jones, you have at heart
To hear this sound and see this sight:
[?This] advice I do impart,
[?That] Jacob, you don't go by night;
[?It's] possible the shrub so green
[?And so] low, may not well be seen:
[?Nor Jaco]b, would I have you go
When the blithe winds forbear to blow;
I think it may be safely then averred
The piping leaves will not be heard.
But when the wind rushes
Through brakes and through bushes;
And around, and within, and without,
Makes a roar and a rout;
Then may you see
The Barberry-tree;
With all its yellow flowers
And interwoven bowers:
Toss in merry madness
Every bough of gladness:
And dance to and fro to the loud-singing breeze,
The blithest of gales, and the maddest of trees:
And then like me
Even from the blossoms of the Barberry,
Mayst thou a store of thought lay by
For present time and long futurity:
And teach to fellow-men a lore
They never learned before;
The manly strain of natural poesy.