Who Wrote That? #25 - Statistics

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.”

          My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

          One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

          But being too happy in thine happiness,—

                  That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

                          In some melodious plot

          Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

                  Singest of summer in full-throated ease.”