Works

Now fare-thee-well, England; no further I'll roam;
But follow my shadow that points the way home;
Your gay southern Shores shall not tempt me to stay;
For my Maggy's at Home, and my Children at play!...

"I tell you, Peggy," said a voice behind
A hawthorn hedge, with wild briars thick entwin'd,
Where unseen trav'llers down a shady way
Journey'd beside the swaths of new-mown hay,...

The Lawns were dry in Euston Park;
(Here Truth [1] inspires my Tale)
The lonely footpath, still and dark,
Led over Hill and Dale.
...

A sonnet has come to my hands, the production, - and nearly the first poetical Production, - of a very young Lady. I have not the Author's consent to publish it: and there is no time to ask it. But I cannot omit adding such a f...

An Old French Mariner am I,
Whom Time hath render'd poor and gray;
Hear, conquering Britons, ere I die,
What anguish prompts me thus to say.

I've rode o'er many a dreadful wave,...

In the descriptive ballad which follows, it will be evident that I have endeavoured to preserve the style of a gossip, and to transmit the memorial of a custom, the extent or antiquity of which I am not acquainted with, and pre...

Near the high road upon a winding stream
An honest Miller rose to Wealth and Fame:
The noblest Virtues cheer'd his lengthen'd days,
And all the Country echo'd with his praise:...

ROVER, awake! the grey Cock crows!
Come, shake your coat and go with me!
High in the East the green Hill glows;
And glory crowns our shelt'ring Tree.
The Sheep expect us at the fold:...

I had folded my flock, and my heart was o'erflowing,
I loiter'd beside the small lake on the heath;
The red sun, though down, left his drapery glowing,
And no sound was stirring, I heard not a breath:...

My untried muse shall no high tone assume,
Nor strut in arms; - farewell my cap and plume:
Brief be my verse, a task within my power,
I tell my feelings in one happy hour;...

Come, friend, I'll turn thee up again:
Companion of the lonely hour!
Spring thirty times hath fed with rain
And cloath'd with leaves my humble bower,
Since thou hast stood
In frame of wood,...

(Perhaps) adapted for Music.

In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood,
I am mistress, no mother have I;
Yet blithe are my days, for my father is good,
And kind is my lover hard by;...

Friend of my peaceful days! substantial friend,
Whom wealth can never change, nor int'rest bend,
I love thee like a child. Thou wert to me
The dumb companion of my misery,...

Bright was the summer sky, the Mornings gay,
And Jane was young and chearful as the Day.
Not yet to Love but Mirth she paid her vows;
And Echo mock'd her as she call'd her Cows....

Dear Boy, throw that Icicle down,
And sweep this deep Snow from the door:
Old Winter comes on with a frown;
A terrible frown for the poor.
In a Season so rude and forlorn...