Classic Poem

Wooing! Ah me, amid the pleasant woods,
And by the sea's wild marge, and on the heath
Which the sun purples in his painting moods,
How sweet to bind a foolish wild-flower wreath
For the gay girl one loves! Strange solitudes
Where the gray falcon floats, while underneath
The woods are hushed — no birds their songs renewing:
These are the fit localities for wooing.