Peggy said good morning and I said good bye, When farmers dib the corn and laddies sow the rye. Young Peggy's face was common sense and I was rather shy When I met her in the morning when the farmers sow the rye....
O it was a lorn and a dismal night, And the storm beat loud and high; Not a friendly light to guide me right Was there shining in the sky, When a lonely hut my wanderings met, Lost in a foreign land,...
And will she leave the lowly clowns For silk and satins gay, Her woollen aprons and drab gowns For lady's cold array? And will she leave the wild hedge rose, The redbreast and the wren,...
Agen I'll take my idle pen And sing my bonny mountain maid-- Sweet Phoebe of the Scottish glen, Nor of her censure feel afraid. I'll charm her ear with beauty's praise,...
A path, old tree, goes by thee crooking on, And through this little gate that claps and bangs Against thy rifted trunk, what steps hath gone? Though but a lonely way, yet mystery hangs...
Spring's sweets they are not fled, though Summer's blossom Has met its blight of sadness, drooping low; Still flowers gone by find beds in memory's bosom, Life's nursling buds among the weeds of woe....
Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky, And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet, Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her bye....
Why should man's high aspiring mind Burn in him with so proud a breath, When all his haughty views can find In this world yields to Death? The fair, the brave, the vain, the wise,...
Poets love Nature, and themselves are love. Though scorn of fools, and mock of idle pride. The vile in nature worthless deeds approve, They court the vile and spurn all good beside....
Rank Poverty! dost thou my joys assail, And with thy threat'nings fright me from my rest? I once had thoughts, that with a Bloomfield's tale, And leisure hours, I surely should be blest;...
Just as the even-bell rang, we set out To wander the fields and the meadows about; And the first thing we mark'd that was lovely to view, Was the sun hung on nothing, just bidding adieu:...
The rosy day was sweet and young, The clod-brown lark that hail'd the morn Had just her summer anthem sung, And trembling dropped in the corn; The dew-rais'd flower was perk and proud,...
Summer's pleasures they are gone like to visions every one, And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on. I tried to call them back, but unbidden they are gone...
The eve put on her sweetest shroud, The summer-dress she's often in, Freck'd with white and purple cloud, Dappled like a leopard's skin; The martin, by the cotter's shed,...
The sun now sinks behind the woodland green, And twittering spangles glow the leaves between; So bright and dazzling on the eye it plays As if noon's heat had kindled to a blaze,...
Soon as the twilight through the distant mist In silver hemmings skirts the purple east, Ere yet the sun unveils his smiles to view And dries the morning's chilly robes of dew,...
Soon as the twilight through the distant mist In silver hemmings skirts the purple east, Ere yet the sun unveils his smiles to view And dries the morning's chilly robes of dew,...
On Sunday mornings, freed from hard employ, How oft I mark the mischievous young boy With anxious haste his pole and lines provide, For make-shifts oft crook'd pins to thread were tied;...
Upon the sabbath, sweet it is to walk 'Neath wood-side shelter of oak's spreading tree, Or by a hedge-row track, or padded balk; Or stretch 'neath willows on the meadow lea,...