Classic Poem

If one could ease an aching heart
By breathing of the mountain air,
Or woo the wary soul to part
A little from the path of care,
A little from the beaten road
To turn away—an hour of grace
To lay aside life's dreary load
In some forgetful resting place;
To turn and leave the dust and heat,
The common highway of mankind,
Where all the plodding, weary feet
Tread down the dust of death—to find,
But once, some dewy, cool retreat,
In which the fevered heart and mind
Might put their burthens down, and meet
Some dream long lost, some hope resigned,
Some joy at once complete:—

If one could lose love's vain regret
By gazing on the shining sea,
Or still the trembling chords that fret,
By wandering on the upland lea,
Or find some balm and comfort yet
In hope of better things to be,—
If pale remembrance did not halt
To take each faded garland up.
Nor dropt her tears, remorseful salt,
To mar the taste of pleasure's cup,
If fickle Fortune's luring smile
Did not foretell her darkening frown,
And if her touch could not beguile
The temples with a tinsel crown:—

If there were never maddening sneer
On Fame's proud-smiling lips of scorn,
To mock the daring soul with fear,
And leave the broken clay forlorn,—
If sweet religion did not grow
To be a blind and poisoned thing,
That taints with death the limpid flow
Of kindly Nature's crystal spring,—
Then life were not so sad a dream
But that the waking might be pain;
Then hope were not a transient gleam
Like sunlight on the falling rain,
Nor could dear heaven's descending beam
Rest on the earth in vain.