Classic Poem

Far away—oh far away
From cities all this summer-day,
On the fresh grass beneath the trees,
Lulled by the voice of birds and bees,
And music of the boughs above,
We'll sit and sing, and read of love,
And quite forget—so happy, then—
The tramp and crash of living men.

Far away—oh far away—
We will be selfish for a day,
And flying from incessant strife,
Live with the leaves a careless life;
One day—it is not much to crave,
Out of the ocean, one small wave
On which to float, nor seek to know
How the incessant world may go.

Far away—oh far away—
I will sing my love a lay;
And she shall sit among the flowers,
And hear of ancient troubadours.
And if it please my fancy well,
My passion in disguise to tell,
I'll woo my lady in a song,
And she shall blush nor think me wrong.

Far away—oh far away—
We will be happy while we may;
And when my song has done its part,
To wake emotions in her heart,
I'll beg her with my best of smiles
To read some tale of lovers' wiles—
Some lay or legend of romance
Of Spain, or Italy, or France.

Far away—oh far away—
To joy our cloudland we will stray,
We will be idle—will not work
To please or Kaiser, Pope or Turk;
But lying on luxurious grass,
Catch the rose-odors as they pass,
Nor take one thought of men or sorrow,
Or the dawning of to-morrow.

Far away—oh far away—
Thankful for a summer-day;
We will enjoy it like the leaves,
Or ripening corn that never grieves,
Or mellowing fruit upon the bough,
That blushes thanks for sunshine now;
Or lark that sings in heaven's blue cope—
A thing too happy ev'n to hope.

Far way—oh far away—
We'll make a gem of Time to-day;
And should the future need the spark,
We'll draw the jewel from the dark—
Of all our jewels prized the best,
And wear it upon Memory's breast,
To show, whatever Fate contrives,
We once were happy in our lives.