Classic Poem

To———— if I wish to stray,
The rugged stones direct my way
Across a little bridge of wood,
Useless now heat has dried the flood.
From thence I view an ancient tower,
Whose base surrounding trees embower,—
Whose chimes, far borne on liquid air,
Denote the sacred hour of prayer,
Or, swinging slow, the funeral bell
Sadly tolls a solemm knell,
Or merry peal, resounding gay,
Proclaim the joyous wedding day.

Now, wandering o'er the stubble field,
I mark what store the hedges yield,—
What clustering nuts the branches bend,
And with the blushing haw-thorns blend;
What luscious black berries abound,—
What glowing flowers adorn the ground,
That, rising 'midst the yellow stalks,
Awhile will gem my rural walks.

Now to a lonely spot I turn,
Where Naiads mourn an empty urn,
In sorrow's knot pale willows twine,
And for refreshing moisture pine;
Bent o'er the grass-grown brook they weep,
While their parch'd tresses on the dry ground sweep.
Here thistles thrive and nettles grow,
And weeds their flaunting tendrils throw;
Here owlets lurk and bats resort;
Here frogs, and toads, and crickets sport;
The mower's scythe they need not fear,
For nature frolics wildly here.

And now displaying contrast sweet,
The lawn invites my weary feet,
Where, 'midst the nice smooth shaven green,
Gay little flowrets peep between;
Where, moss-rob'd monarch of the plain,
The old oak holds his ancient reign,
And wide his leafy honors spread,
An ample shelter for my head,
When resting on the rustic seat,
I find a cool and calm retreat,
And oft a favorite book peruse,
Or contemplate, or court the muse,
Till dear to friendship, dear to me,
Society, I wish for thee.
Then to the house of rural same,
That long has borne the village name,
I hasten home; for ever there ,
Society, with thee I share
“The feast of Reason, flow of soul,”
Wholesome repast, and temperate bowl,
That give to conversation zest,
And ever charms the welcome guest,
Who joys at————house to find
Good sense and wit with mirth combin'd.