Classic Poem

THE BOWER .

Retreat of Innocence! receive my form,—
The form of one who wishes for repose,
And asks a pillow, where his eyes may close,—
Where he may slumber safe from earthly harm:
And oh! within thy shade, where every charm
Of Nature wantons on the dewy rose,
Where sweetest music on the zephyr flows,
E'en now I feel my chilly heart grow warm:
Sure angels might repose in such a bower,
No stain of earth might dim their purity;
Here slumbering at the even's quiet hour,
The dew of innocence might o'er them lie,
While heavenly harps a seraph strain might pour,
And raise the listener's soul to ecstasy.