Classic Poem

Thy presence, lovely maid! exalts
My breast with harmless glee;
And the decayed face of joy
Renews at sight of thee.

Tho' harsh the utt'rance of my lips,
And fault'ring be my tongue,
Thy beauties harmonize my lay,
And linnets learn my song.

Incurtain'd in the shades of night,
I meditate thy charms;
Think on thy form, and slumb'ring feel
The pressure of thy arms.

Wak'ning, the phantom fades away,
And scarce delusion seems—
O! hasten on the wings of wind,
And realize my dreams.

The sun arises, and the swain
Unto his labour hies;
The swathy herbage furs the mead,
The russet hay-cocks rise.

He downward tends on sloping wheels,
His glory gilds the west,
The joyful rustic leaves the rake,
And hastens home to rest.

But, in thy absence, unto me
No season brings repose;
Alike, at morn or dusky eve,
I wrestle with my woes.