Classic Poem

Once more on the green-crested mount,
Where the breezes of summer blow free,
I drink from thy clear-flowing fount
A wassail, Monteagle, to thee.

I come with a pledge and a toast,
In response to your welcome to me,
As a guest to a warm-hearted host—
Here's a “health” to old Tennessee!

Drink deep! for the grasp of your hand
Remembered and treasured shall be;
Your Cumberland Mountains shall stand
As brothers and cousins to me.

They seem like my own Highland ridge,
Where the Hudson flows down to the sea,
Whose sunsets the distance shall bridge,
And remind me forever of thee.