Classic Poem

FROM THE GREEK.

Earth, to thy flowery bosom take in love
Thy ancient worshipper! He led the grove
Of olives down yon valley's gentle side.
'T was he who taught the crystal stream to glide
With its low murmur round this bowery vine,
And wreath'd its mossy fount with eglantine.
'T was his pale hand that crown'd the hill with corn,
And planted yon peach orchard; where at morn
The winds grow fragrant! — Strew thy earliest bloom,
And hallow thy old lover in the tomb.