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FROM BUFFALO UPON LAKE ERIE	A
	-
	-
nec venit ad duros musa vocata Getas	B
OVID ex Ponto lib ep	C
	-
	-
Thou oft hast told me of the happy hours	B
Enjoyed by thee in fair Italia's bowers	B
Where lingering yet the ghost of ancient wit	D
Midst modern monks profanely dares to flit	D
And pagan spirits by the Pope unlaid	D
Haunt every stream and sing through every shade	D
There still the bard who if his numbers be	A
His tongue's light echo must have talked like thee	A
The courtly bard from whom thy mind has caught	D
Those playful sunshine holidays of thought	D
In which the spirit baskingly reclines	B
Bright without effort resting while it shines	B
There still he roves and laughing loves to see	A
How modern priests with ancient rakes agree	A
How 'neath the cowl the festal garland shines	B
And Love still finds a niche in Christian shrines	B
	-
There still too roam those other souls of song	E
With whom thy spirit hath communed so long	E
That quick as light their rarest gems of thought	D
By Memory's magic to thy lip are brought	D
But here alas by Erie's stormy lake	F
As far from such bright haunts my course I take	F
No proud remembrance o'er the fancy plays	B
No classic dream no star of other days	B
Hath left that visionary light behind	D
That lingering radiance of immortal mind	D
Which gilds and hallows even the rudest scene	G
The humblest shed where Genius once has been	H
	-
All that creation's varying mass assumes	B
Of grand or lovely here aspires and blooms	B
Bold rise the mountains rich the gardens glow	I
Bright lakes expand and conquering rivers flow	I
But mind immortal mind without whose ray	J
This world's a wilderness and man but clay	J
Mind mind alone in barren still repose	B
Nor blooms nor rises nor expands nor flows	B
Take Christians Mohawks democrats and all	K
From the rude wigwam to the congress hall	K
From man the savage whether slaved or free	A
To man the civilized less tame than he	A
'Tis one dull chaos one unfertile strife	L
Betwixt half polished and half barbarous life	L
Where every ill the ancient world could brew	M
Is mixt with every grossness of the new	M
Where all corrupts though little can entice	B
And naught is known of luxury but its vice	B
	-
Is this the region then is this the clime	N
For soaring fancies for those dreams sublime	N
Which all their miracles of light reveal	O
To heads that meditate and hearts that feel	O
Alas not so the Muse of Nature lights	B
Her glories round she scales the mountain heights	B
And roams the forests every wondrous spot	D
Burns with her step yet man regards it not	D
She whispers round her words are in the air	P
But lost unheard they linger freezing there	P
Without one breath of soul divinely strong	E
One ray of mind to thaw them into song	E
	-
Yet yet forgive me oh ye sacred few	M
Whom late by Delaware's green banks I knew	M
Whom known and loved through many a social eve	Q
'Twas bliss to live with and 'twas pain to leave	Q
Not with more joy the lonely exile scanned	D
The writing traced upon the desert's sand	D
Where his lone heart but little hoped to find	D
One trace of life one stamp of human kind	D
Than did I hail the pure the enlightened zeal	O
The strength to reason and the warmth to feel	O
The manly polish and the illumined taste	D
Which mid the melancholy heartless waste	D
My foot has traversed oh you sacred few	M
I found by Delaware's green banks with you	M
	-
Long may you loathe the Gallic dross that runs	B
Through your fair country and corrupts its sons	B
Long love the arts the glories which adorn	R
Those fields of freedom where your sires were born	R
Oh if America can yet be great	D
If neither chained by choice nor doomed by fate	D
To the mob mania which imbrutes her now	S
She yet can raise the crowned yet civic brow	S
Of single majesty can add the grace	B
Of Rank's rich capital to Freedom's base	B
Nor fear the mighty shaft will feebler prove	T
For the fair ornament that flowers above	U
If yet released from all that pedant throng	E
So vain of error and so pledged to wrong	E
Who hourly teach her like themselves to hide	D
Weakness in vaunt and barrenness in pride	D
She yet can rise can wreathe the Attic charms	B
Of soft refinement round the pomp of arms	B
And see her poets flash the fires of song	E
To light her warriors' thunderbolts along	E
It is to you to souls that favoring heaven	V
Has made like yours the glorious task is given	V
Oh but for such Columbia's days were done	V
Rank without ripeness quickened without sun	V
Crude at the surface rotten at the core	W
Her fruits would fall before her spring were o'er	X
	-
Believe me Spencer while I winged the hours	B
Where Schuylkill winds his way through banks of flowers	B
Though few the days the happy evenings few	M
So warm with heart so rich with mind they flew	M
That my charmed soul forgot its wish to roam	N
And rested there as in a dream of home	N
And looks I met like looks I'd loved before	W
And voices too which as they trembled o'er	X
The chord of memory found full many a tone	Y
Of kindness there in concord with their own	Y
Yes we had nights of that communion free	A
That flow of heart which I have known with thee	A
So oft so warmly nights of mirth and mind	D
	-
Of whims that taught and follies that refined	D
When shall we both renew them when restored	D
To the gay feast and intellectual board	D
Shall I once more enjoy with thee and thine	Z
Those whims that teach those follies that refine	Z
Even now as wandering upon Erie's shore	W
I hear Niagara's distant cataract roar	W
I sigh for home alas these weary feet	D
Have many a mile to journey ere we meet	D

Thomas Moore

To The Honorable W. R. Spencer Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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