Poetry of the Fields: Passages from the Poets Descriptive of Pastoral Scenes, Etc., Etc (Google eBook)

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E.H. Butler & Company, 1867 - Poetry - 112 pages
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Page 24 - WISH MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Page 27 - The sloping land recedes into the clouds; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear; Groves, heaths, and smoking villages remote.
Page 26 - How oft upon yon eminence our pace Has slackened to a pause, and we have borne The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, While Admiration, feeding at the eye, And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene.
Page 41 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Page 91 - My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Page 58 - On her cheek an autumn flush, Deeply ripened ; such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Round her eyes her tresses fell ; Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veiled a light That had else been all too bright.
Page 27 - Nor less composure waits upon the roar Of distant floods, or on the softer voice Of neighboring fountain, or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length In matted grass, that with a livelier green Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Page 94 - The stars of heaven a course are taught Too high above our human thought ; Ye may be found if ye are sought, And as we gaze, we know. Ye dwell beside our paths and homes, Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow, And guilty man, where'er he roams, Your innocent mirth may borrow. The birds of air before us fleet, They cannot brook our shame to meet But we may taste your solace sweet And come again to-morrow.
Page 45 - Thou's met me in an evil hour : For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem ; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonnie gem. Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, Wi' speckled breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Page 35 - Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

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