Classic Poem

I.

Fields of bright eye-refreshing green,
Trees that afford an ample shade,
Streams on whose banks 'tis sweet to lean,
And list their murmuring through the glade.

II.

Woods, dark, majestic, mazy, wild,
Where Contemplation loves to roam,
Fit haunts for Fancy's wayward child,
Thoughts' chosen realm — the Poet's home!

III.

Silence, that hath a holy tongue,
Songs, that have music deep and true,
The kindly old, the taintless young,
These do I feel and hear and view.