Classic Poem

Dear native brooks, your ways I have pursued
How fondly! whether ye delight, in screen
Of shady trees to rest yourselves unseen,
Or, from your lofty dwellings scarcely viewed
But by the mountain eagle, your bold brood
Pure as the morning, angry, boisterous, keen,
Green as sea water, foaming white and green,
Comes roaring like a joyous multitude —
Nor have I been your follower in vain;
For not to speak of life and its first joys
Bound to your goings by a tender chain
Of flowers and delicate dreams that entertain
Loose minds when men are growing out of boys,
My manly heart has owed to your rough noise
Triumph and thoughts no bondage can restrain