Classic Poem

Thou hast come from thy home in the far blue sky,
To dwell in the bosom of flowery dells;
Thou hast laid thy mantle of glory by,
With its heavenly hues and magic spells;
Thou hast wrapped thee in weeds of sober gray,
And simply braided thy flowing hair,
And thy locks in fond and amorous play
Sport with the soft and balmy air.

From thy wintry hall in the evening cloud,
Where gathered thy pomp of airy hues,
And thine eye, from the folds of thy golden shroud,
Looked down on the glistening of frozen dews,
Where each drop, like a bright, particular star,
Caught the iris colors around thy throne,
And the moon, as she mounted the hills afar,
On a world of seeded silver shone,—

From thy glittering hall in the lonely sky,
Thou hast come to dwell in the tangled bower,
Where a stealing brook is murmuring by,
And bathing the roots of herb and flower.
Here thy beneficent hand shall throw
Its thousand hues o'er the budding plain,
Till we dream the clouds, in their sunset glow,
Have melted in showers of golden rain.