A green wood side

I wandered down a green wood side
On Sunday noon in spring
Where little birds their dwellings hide
& Thrushes sweetly sing
The moss so green round Hazel roots
The Primrose by its side
That in its brimstone livery shoots
In bunches far and wide

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My illness was love

I peeled bits o straws & I got switches too
From the grey peeling willow as idlers do
& I switched at the flies as I sat all alone
Till my flesh blood & marrow wasted to the dry bone

My illness was love though I knew not the smart
But the beauty o love was the blood o my heart

Willow switches I broke & I peeled bits o straws
Ever lonely in crowds in natures own laws

My ballroom the pasture my music the bees
My drink was the fountain my church the tall trees
Whoever would love or be tied to a wife
When it makes a man mad all the days of his life

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The summer adorning

Sweet are the blossoms the summer adorning

Shed in profusion oer meadow & lea
Deckt wi the charms of the dew bedded morning
Ere the suns spangles dry blossom & tree

While as I wander by wood bank & fountain
Hushing my sorrows wi moments decline
Many selections of blossoms I’m counting
To trace in their beauty some likeness of thine

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Keep their sabbaths

The shepherds & the herding swains

Keep their sabbaths on the plains
For them the church bells vainly call
Fields are their church & house & all
Theyll lie & catch the passing sound
That comes from steeples shining round

Enjoying in the service time
The happy bells delightful chime
& if they sit on rising ground,
To view the landscape spreading round

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Sweet the fragrance

A beanfield full in blossom smells as sweet
As Araby or groves of orange flowers
Black-eyed & white & feathered to ones feet
How sweet they smell in mornings dewy hours
When seething night is left upon the flowers
& when morns sun shines brightly oer the field
The bean bloom glitters in the gems of showers
& sweet the fragrance which the union yields
To battered footpaths crossing oer the fields

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Refuse of Nature

Long my dear valleys long long may ye flourish
Though rush-beds & thistles make most of your pride
May showers never fail the greens daisies to nourish
Nor suns dry the fountain that rills by its side
Your skies may be gloomy & misty your mornings
Your flat swampy valleys unwholesome may be
Still refuse of Nature without her adornings
Ye are dear as this heart in my bosom to me

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Weeds of all sorts

The partridge whirs up frit away from her nest 

& the hare with the morning dew yet on her breast 

Jumps away from his hustle & bustle & noise 

Which he makes in the midst of his rapture & joys

Now singing & tearing up weeds of all sorts 

Showy corn poppys shining like foxhunters coats 

& bluecaps & cockleflowers no matter what 

To make a gay garland to stick in his hat 

& now he struts out what a gesture he wears 

As proud of his colours as soldiers of 

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