Driven in by Autumn's sharpening air From half-stripped woods and pastures bare, Brisk Robin seeks a kindlier home: Not like a beggar is he come, But enters as a looked-for guest,...
There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall, Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall: 'Tis his who walks about in the open air,...
There is a little unpretending Rill Of limpid water, humbler far than aught That ever among Men or Naiads sought Notice or name! It quivers down the hill, Furrowing its shallow way with dubious will;...
There is an Eminence, of these our hills The last that parleys with the setting sun; We can behold it from our orchard-seat; And, when at evening we pursue out walk Along the public way, this Peak, so high...
'There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only Poets know'; 'twas rightly said; Whom could the Muses else allure to tread Their smoothest paths, to wear their lightest chains?...
"There!" said a Stripling, pointing with meet pride Towards a low roof with green trees half concealed, "Is Mosgiel Farm; and that's the very field Where Burns ploughed up the Daisy." Far and wide...
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years: Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard In the silence of morning the song of the Bird....
There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander! many a time, At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone,...
Not envying Latian shades, if yet they throw A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring, Blandusia, prattling as when long ago The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing;...
Child of the clouds! remote from every taint Of sordid industry thy lot is cast; Thine are the honours of the lofty waste Not seldom, when with heat the valleys faint,...
How shall I paint thee? Be this naked stone My seat, while I give way to such intent; Pleased could my verse, a speaking monument, Make to the eyes of men thy features known....
Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take This parting glance, no negligent adieu! A Protean change seems wrought while I pursue The curves, a loosely-scattered chain doth make;...
The Minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; While, smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,...
Ere yet our course was graced with social trees It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers, Where small birds warbled to their paramours; And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees;...
"Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!" The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs, The envied flower beholding, as it lies On Laura's breast, in exquisite repose;...
What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled, First of his tribe, to this dark dell who first In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst? What hopes came with him? what designs were spread...
Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played With thy clear voice, I caught the fitful sound Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound, Unfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid...
On, loitering Muse, the swift Stream chides us on! Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure Objects immense portrayed in miniature, Wild shapes for many a strange comparison!...
Hail to the fields, with Dwellings sprinkled o'er, And one small hamlet, under a green hill Clustering, with barn and byre, and spouting mill! A glance suffices, should we wish for more,...
No fiction was it of the antique age: A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft, Is of the very footmarks unbereft Which tiny Elves impressed; on that smooth stage Dancing with all their brilliant equipage...