Classic Poem

And where is he? not by the side
 Whose every want he loved to tend;
Not o'er those valleys wandering wide,
 Where sweetly lost, he oft would wend;
That form beloved he marks no more,
 Those scenes admired no more shall see,
Those scenes are lovely as before,
 And she as fair—but where is he?

II.

No, no, the radiance is not dim,
 That used to gild his favourite hill,
The pleasures that were dear to him,
 Are dear to life and nature still;
But ah! his home is not as fair,
 Neglected must his gardens be,
The lilies droop and wither there,
 And seem to whisper “where is he?”

III.

His was the pomp, the crouded hall—
 But where is now this proud display?
His, riches, honours, pleasures, all
 Desire could frame—but where are they?
And he, as some tall rock that stands
 Protected by the circling sea,
Surrounded by admiring bands,
 Seemed proudly strong—and where is he?

IV.

The church-yard bears an added stone,
The fire-side shews a vacant chair,
Here sadness dwells and weeps alone,
 And death displays his banner there;
The life is gone, the breath has fled,
 And what has been no more shall be,
The well-known form, the welcome tread,
 Oh! where are they, and where is he?