Classic Poem

Give me that fond music,
That charmed my heart so sweetly:
Softly breathed its numbers,
Deep to my inmost soul.
The light-winged dance obeys it;
The maidens trip it featly;
All darker passion slumbers;
Full tides of gladness roll.

Still the sound is flowing,
Like summer brook at even,
Over pebbles leaping
In sparkling joy along.
The wind is faintly blowing;
The clouds are bright in heaven;
The spirits there are keeping
A festival of song.

Wake the sounding viol!
Dark eyes, with speaking glances,
Kindle high with pleasure,
As rings the well-known strain.

With easy gliding motion,
Involved in graceful fancies
Of light uncertain measure,
Responds the mimic train.