Classic Poem

1

Come hither ye who thirst
Pure still the brook flows on
Its waters are not curst
Clear from its rock of stone
It bubbles and it boils
An everlasting rill
Then eddies and recoils
And wimples clearer still
Art troubled then come hither
And tast[e] of peace for ever.

2

Art weary heres the place
For weariness to rest
These flowers are herbs of grace
To cure the aching breast
Soft beds these mossy banks
Where dew drops only weep
Where nature turns god thanks
And sings herself to sleep
Art troubled with strife come hither
Here is peace and summer weather.

3

Come hither for pleasure who list
Here is oak boughs for a shade
Their leaves they will hide from the mist
Ere the sun his broad disk has displayed
Here is peace if thy bosom be troubled
Here is rest if thou'rt weary — sit down
Here pleasure you'll find it is doubled
For content is lifes only crown
Disciples of sorrow come hither
For no blasts my joys can wither.

4

Art sick of the naughty world
There's many been sick before thee
Then leave these young shoots with their tendrels curl'd
For the oaks that are mossy and hoary
Art weary with beating the flood
Here's a mossy bank — come and sit down
'Twas nature that planted this wood
Unknown to the sins of the town
Full of pride and contention come hither
We'll talk of our troubles together.

5

The world is all tost in commotion
The blind lead the blind into strife
Come hither thou wreck of lifes ocean
Let solitude warm thee to life
Be the pilgrim of Love and the joy of its sorrow
Be anything but the worlds man
The dark of to day brings the suns of tomorrow
Be proud that your joy here began
Poor shipwreck of life journey hither
And we'll talk of lifes troubles together