Classic Poem

Come ye so early,
Days of delight?
Making the hill-side
Blithesome and bright?

Merrily, merrily,
Little brooks rush,
Down by the meadow,
Under the bush.

Welkin and hill-top,
Azure and cool;
Fishes are sporting
In streamlet and pool.

Birds of gay feather
Flit through the grove,
Singing together,
Ditties of love.

Busily coming
From moss-cover'd bowers,
Brown bees are humming,
Questing for flowers.

Lightsome emotion,
Life everywhere;
Faint wafts of fragrance
Scenting the air.

Now comes there sounding
A sough of the breeze,
Shakes through the thicket,
Sinks in the trees.

Sinks, but returning,
It ruffles my hair;
Aid me this rapture,
Muses, to bear!

Know ye the passion
That stirs in me here?
Yestre'en at gloaming
Was I with my dear!

Come ye so early,
Days of delight?
Making the hill-side
Blithesome and bright?

Merrily, merrily,
Little brooks rush,
Down by the meadow,
Under the bush.

Welkin and hill-top,
Azure and cool;
Fishes are sporting
In streamlet and pool.

Birds of gay feather
Flit through the grove,
Singing together,
Ditties of love.

Busily coming
From moss-cover'd bowers,
Brown bees are humming,
Questing for flowers.

Lightsome emotion,
Life everywhere;
Faint wafts of fragrance
Scenting the air.

Now comes there sounding
A sough of the breeze,
Shakes through the thicket,
Sinks in the trees.

Sinks, but returning,
It ruffles my hair;
Aid me this rapture,
Muses, to bear!

Know ye the passion
That stirs in me here?
Yestre'en at gloaming
Was I with my dear!