Classic Poem

Hard by, there is a secret greenwood nook —
Haply by fairies formed, for the repose
And pleasure of their queen: — a silvery brook,
Reflecting all that overhangs it, flows
Musically by, with noise of many springs;
The young birds tenant it, and woo and pair,
And silent sit to hear the Thrush, who sings
His frequent song of summer-blytheness there.
'Twill soon be reach'd, if we use willing speed;
Then let us hence — making so little stir,
Our light steps shall not rouse the grasshopper.
I have a song to breathe — a book to read;
And we will pass the hours in such employ
As shall to our twin hearts give certain joy.