Classic Poem

Hail ! lovely month, by Ceres crown'd,
Who sportive treads thy chearful round,
And smiles to see in sheaves appear,
The noblest produce of the year;
O! let me join thy festive train,
And carol forth my rustic strain,
While nymphs and shepherds chaunt the lay,
And bless Eliza's natal day.
Eliza, mild as blooming Spring,
When budding flow'rs their fragrance bring;
Whose real-worth and native grace
Refulgent beam around her face;
Upon whose polish'd brow, serene,
Candid Benevolence is seen:
Fair Modesty her cheeks adorn,
With blushes gentle as the morn;
While Innocence and Truth attend,
And wait the footsteps of their friend.
O! still, my lovely maid, may they
Thy actions guard, thy thoughts survey;
And usher in, with finish'd grace,
The Summer of thy happy race;
Then chearful shall thy Autumn glide,
And steer thy bark thro' life's rough tide;
And when thy hoary Winter's come,
Incessant pointing to the tomb,
Without a pang thy soul resign,
And be repaid with joys divine.