Classic Poem

I.

For THEE , my Muse, her first, fond chaplet wove,
Selecting flow'rets wild, with artless hand
And thou did'st deign the poor meed to approve,
And thou did'st bid my humble hopes expand.

II.

Charm'd with thy smile, I thought each flow'r grew sweet,
A lovelier bloom the simple garland wore,
Quick did my breast with busy transport beat,
And my flush'd cheek, the tint of pleasure bore;
But ah! 'tis fled, 'tis faded — yet, once more,
Let P ARDON stoop from her ethereal shrine,
And smiles of glad applause my conscious heart refine.