Classic Poem

Now, little folded pregnant leaf,
On thee for once my joy, my grief,
My hopes, and fears await;
Now shall Misfortune cease to growl,
Or black Despair assault my soul,
And fix my hapless fate.

Oh! may some Angel (guardian aid!)
In robes celestial, sweet array'd,
Unknown, unseen descend,
And while thou opens on his eyes,
Soft whisper the poor poet's sighs,
And bid him be a friend.

Then shall the Muse outstretch her wing,
And, sir'd with joy, exulting sing
The bounty of the giver;
Yet if stern Fortune so ordain,
That all my flatt'ring hopes are vain,
Here, sorrow! dwell for ever.