The 'romance' of peasant life in the west of England (Google eBook)

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1872
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Page 8 - But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the souL Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Page 40 - Work - work work! My labour never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread and rags. That shatter'd roof - and this naked floor A table - a broken chair And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there!
Page 7 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The...
Page 40 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang the
Page 2 - GREEN was the corn as I rode on my way, And bright were the dews on the blossoms of May, And dark was the sycamore's shade to behold, And the oak's tender leaf was of emerald and gold. The thrush from his holly, the lark from his cloud, Their chorus of rapture sung jovial and loud ; From the soft vernal sky to the soft grassy ground. There was beauty above me, beneath, and around.
Page 26 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves 'plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Page 80 - FLOWER. 0 sweeter than the fragrant flower, At evening's dewy close, The will, united with the power, To succour human woes! And softer than the softest strain Of music to the ear, The placid joy we give and gain, By gratitude sincere.
Page 7 - SWEET AUBURN ! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheer'd the laboring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd ; Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease...
Page 11 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, : Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 34 - But leaving that: search we the secret springs, And backward trace the principles of things; There shall we find, that when the world began, One common mass composed the mould of man; One paste of flesh on all degrees bestow'd, And kneaded up alike with moist'ning blood.

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