Classic Poem

Give me the gloomy walk in summer-time
That intersects the woods where Nature weaves
Her bowers at will (that, close-encumbered, climb
Dark overhead their many-mingling leaves),
While curious anxiousness the bosom heaves
The hidden beauties of the shade to find
That in the negligence of summer lives;
Each herb, leaf, noting of peculiar kind,
And many a flower and many a nameless weed,
Where eye scarce marks 'em ere they're run to seed —
And where the mossy stump invites to rest,
And woodbines up the hazel's stem proceed,
Drop down and muse within one's sheltered nest
Or from one's pocket take a book and read.