Classic Poem

Sweet Laurels, Poplars, Shrubs, Adieu!
The Season bids — I'm lost to you!
To sooth the thought we part so soon,
And chear my mind, I'll instant tune
My pendant Lyre, which, long unstrung,
With drowsy Poppies hath been hung.
The Wreath Lethean off I pluck,
The Measure seize — the Chord is struck!
Our union fondly I'll retrace,
Ah! as you wave with leafless grace,
Your rustling branches prompt my song,
The shrill winds but each note prolong,
Wild Minstrelsy the winds rehearse,
As wild, unshackled, be my Verse!
At my command ye hither came
From vulgar grounds without a name,
I planted, water'd, watch'd your youth,
And loved you with incessant truth.
Not as those love, who teach their eye
To glance a flattering treacherous lie,
Ah no! by all the powers of Rhyme,
I loved ye e'en beyond your prime,
Your waning charms, your sallow boughs,
Attached my cares, obtained my vows.
Poplars! I marked your spiral form,
Still lofty midst the louring storm,
Now, graceful o'er the tempest tower,
Now, bending, shed in gems the shower,
Then, rising, with the Moon-beam shine,
As set with Emeralds from the mine,
The Moon, whose Splendor clear and bright
With golden rays prevail'd o'er Night.
From cheering dreams, and sweet repose,
Each lustrous morn when I arose
If, hasty, o'er the stairs I flew,
It was, sweet trees, to look at you!
To see you on my windows play,
And o'er the Room your Shadows stray.
When Breakfast's fragrant stream was pour'd,
In vain with News were Papers stored,
That Bonaparte strode over France,
And Europe led in fickle dance,
Forcing to hey, change sides, or set,
Monarchs who ne'er till then had met!
'Twas all, like — " Paris Modes " — passed by,
Nor half a minute caught my eye.
I ceased to read, forgot to sip,
Scarce Tea or Roll approach'd my lip,
From frequent Pause, to look at you
All bright with bloom and morning dew.
Sweet Shrubs! each vernal month that passed
Beheld ye fairer than the last.
To tend you was my Summer's toil,
As Suns drew juices from the soil
And made them rise within your rind
Leaving their coarser dregs behind;
Bestowing Organs, breathing pores,
By Breezes nurtur'd from the shores
Whose strong vibrations quick propel
The mounting sap from cell to cell.
'Twas thus you rose to lofty height,
Imbibing sustenance from Light,
Celestial food bestowed on plants,
To give the hue which all enchants.
When first the Nymph of Eden's bowers,
Awoke to Life, and bloom'd midst Flowers,
As she surveyed her blest abode,
Each nerve with thrilling pleasure glowed!
She rose, and graceful trod the earth
Thus gifted with a second birth.
Beauty on beauty charmed her eye,
The mount far off, the River nigh,
The morning Sun ascending slow,
The hues above, the tints below.
As Aloes, Sycamores, she found,
And Myrtles shedding Odours round,
Beheld Palmettos dart so high
They seem'd ascending to the sky,
Groves pendent with unfading Flowers,
Unknown but in fair Eden's bowers,
She felt She was with keener zest,
And stood entranced, entranced and blest,
Rapture succeeded. Wonder's place,
And fervent Transport beam'd her face!
— Near half the bliss of Eve divine,
Ye Poplars, Laurels, hath been mine,
Nay, I had joys, to her unknown,
A P LANTER 's joys were all my own!
But, now! — to dull December street
I lingering move, with wavering feet —
December street! but how endure
Your filthy state, your air impure,
Your Patten's clink, your Gutter's rush,
Whilst from the roofs vile torrents gush?
Horrid — — But, see! to chear the hours,
Whilst spring no mists, whilst fall no showers,
The streets are graced with many a Belle —
Tis dull no longer here to dwell!
The Sisters W ALKER glide along,
Round whom such varied graces throng,
Distinct each Character, and Mind,
To no one Model all confined.
The C AREWS like Geranium glow,
Immingled with the Lilly's snow,
Revive the Graces of the Dame
From whom the lovely Damsels came,
Deck unsun'd streets with Beauty's ray,
And render blithe the wintery way!
See O WEN too before me move,
The widow'd Fair with eye of Dove!
And S TRONG , whose soft transparent frame,
Made Hymen rouse, his torches flame.
When Forms, like these, delight the view,
Ye Laurels, Poplars, what are you!
No longer now, sweet trees, I grieve
Your shaded room your haunts to leave!
Whilst falls no hail, or driving sleets,
I welcome deck'd December's Streets!