Scenes of love and days of pleasure, I must leave them all, lassie. Scenes of love and hours of leisure, All are gone for aye, lassie. No more thy velvet-bordered dress...
Again freckled cowslips are gilding the plain, And crow-flowers yellow again o'er the lea, Again the speck'd throstle comes in with her strain, And welcomes the spring--but no spring can I see. ...
O happy spot! how much the sight of thee Wakes the endearments of my infancy: The very trees, through which the wild-winds sigh, Seem whispering now some joys of youth gone by;...
I love thee, sweet Mary, but love thee in fear; Were I but the morning breeze, healthy and airy, As thou goest a walking I'd breathe in thine ear, And whisper and sigh how I love thee, my Mary! ...
When nature's beauty shone complete. With summer's lovely weather, And even, shadowing day's retreat, Brought swains and maids together; Then I did meet a charming face, But who--I'll be discreet:...
Winter's gone, the summer breezes Breathe the shepherd's joys again, Village scene no longer pleases, Pleasures meet upon the plain; Snows are fled that hung the bowers, Buds to blossoms softly steal,...
Why are ye silent, Birds? Where do ye fly? Winter's not violent, With such a Spring sky. The wheatlands are green, snow and frost are away, Birds, why are ye silent on such a sweet day? ...
Slow boiling up, on the horizon's brim, Huge clouds arise, mountainous, dark and grim, Sluggish and slow upon the air they ride, As pitch-black ships o'er the blue ocean glide;...
The frog croaks loud, and maidens dare not pass But fear the noisome toad and shun the grass; And on the sunny banks they dare not go Where hissing snakes run to the flood below....
Full many a sharp, sad, unexpected thorn Finds room to wound Life's lacerated flower, Which subtle fate, to every mortal born, Guides unprevented in an early hour....
The Spring is come, and Spring flowers coming too, The crocus, patty kay, the rich hearts' ease; The polyanthus peeps with blebs of dew, And daisy flowers; the buds swell on the trees;...
Winter is past--the little bee resumes Her share of sun and shade, and o'er the lea Hums her first hymnings to the flowers' perfumes, And wakes a sense of gratefulness in me:...
Man, Earth's poor shadow! talks of Earth's decay: But hath it nothing of eternal kin? No majesty that shall not pass away? No soul of greatness springing up within?...
I love to see the old heath's withered brake Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling, While the old heron from the lonely lake Starts slow and flaps his melancholy wing,...
He waits all day beside his little flock And asks the passing stranger what's o'clock, But those who often pass his daily tasks Look at their watch and tell before he asks....
In politics and politicians' lies The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise; Opinionates with wisdom all compact, And een could tell a nation how to act;...
Among the orchard weeds, from every search, Snugly and sure, the old hen's nest is made, Who cackles every morning from her perch To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid;...
I love thee, sweet Mary, but love thee in fear; Were I but the morning breeze, healthful and airy, As thou goest a-walking I'd breathe in thine ear, And whisper and sigh, how I love thee, my Mary! ...
I pluck Summer blossoms, And think of rich bosoms-- The bosoms I've leaned on, and worshipped, and won. The rich valley lilies, The wood daffodillies, Have been found in our rambles when Summer begun....