There was a time, when love's young flowers With many a joy my bosom prest: Sweet hours of bliss!--but short are hours, Those hours are fled--and I'm distrest. I would not wish, in reason's spite;...
The sultry day it wears away, And o'er the distant leas The mist again, in purple stain, Falls moist on flower and trees: His home to find, the weary hind Glad leaves his carts and ploughs;...
Let brutish hearts, as hard as stones, Mock The weak Muse's tender moans, As now she wails o'er Titty's bones With anguish deep; Doubtless o'er parent's dying groans They'd little weep. ...
Where the broad sheepwalk bare and brown [Yields] scant grass pining after showers, And winds go fanning up and down The little strawy bents and nodding flowers,...
Maytime is to the meadows coming in, And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big, And water blobs and all their golden kin Crowd round the shallows by the striding brig. Daisies and buttercups and ladysmocks...
How sweet I've wander'd bosom-deep in grain, When Summer's mellowing pencil sweeps his shade Of ripening tinges o'er the checquer'd plain: Light tawny oat-lands with a yellow blade;...
What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoyed,--we know not what we see,...
What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoy'd,--we know not what we see,...
There is a wilder'd spot delights me well, Pent in a corner of my native vale, Where tiny blossoms with a purple bell Shiver their beauties to the autumn-gale. 'Tis one of those mean arbours that prevail...
'T was on the banks of Ivory, 'neath the hawthorn-scented shade, Early one summer's morning, I met a lovely maid; Her hair hung o'er her shoulders broad, her eyes like suns did shine,...
A beanfield full in blossom smells as sweet As Araby, or groves of orange flowers; Black-eyed and white, and feathered to one's feet, How sweet they smell in morning's dewy hours!...
I cannot know what country owns thee now, With France's forest lilies on thy brow. When England knew thee thou wert passing fair; I never knew a foreign face so rare....
By the old tavern door on the causey there lay A hogshead of stingo just rolled from a dray, And there stood the blacksmith awaiting a drop As dry as the cinders that lay in his shop;...
True as the church clock hand the hour pursues He plods about his toils and reads the news, And at the blacksmith's shop his hour will stand To talk of "Lunun" as a foreign land....
Soon as the spring its earliest visit pays, And buds with March and April's lengthen'd days Of mingled suns and shades, and snow, and rain, Forcing the crackling frost to melt again;...
Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black From the south-west stained its encroaching track, Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide, Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;...
Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black From the south-west stain'd its encroaching track, Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide, Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;...
The crow sat on the willow tree A-lifting up his wings, And glossy was his coat to see, And loud the ploughman sings, "I love my love because I know The milkmaid she loves me";...
"Ah, where can he linger?" said Doll, with a sigh, As bearing her milk-burthen home: "Since he's broken his vow, near an hour has gone by, So fair as he promis'd to come."...