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Narrow lane
I walk adown the narrow lane,
The nightingale is singing now,
But like to me she seems at loss
For Royce Wood and its shielding bough.
I lean upon the window sill,
The trees and summer happy seem;
Green, sunny green they shine, but still
My heart goes far away to dream.
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Warm gorse blossoms
& trembles in the dead grass o'er the heath
The silver rain pearls in the wild flowers bosoms
& moistens minute flowers of moss beneath
There i' the morning dew I early ramble
What time beneath the fern the weary moth
Hides from the sun in dew drops hangs the bramble
As down the rabbit track I venture forth
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Sunshiny May
I think when the glad shepherd lay
On the velvet sward stretched for a bed
On the bosom of sunshiny May
While a hillock supported his head
I think when in meeting the maid
Made choice of a hill for her seat
When the winds so deliciously played
In her curls 'mid her blushes so sweet
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Each hated track
So when the Traveller uncertain roams
On lost roads leading every where but home
Each vain desire that leaves his heart in pain
Each fruitless hope to cherish it in vain
Each hated track so slowly left behind
Makes for the home which night denies to find
& every wish that leaves the aching breast
Flies to the spot where all its wishes rest
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The mossy wall
Adown the arches bleak & blea
Tho snow storms cloath the mossy wall
& hourly whiten oer the lea
Yet when from clouds the sun is free
& warms the learning bird to sing
Neath sloping bank or sheltering tree
Tis sweet to watch the creeping spring
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Image by my friend #RachelBurch
Smiling in sunshine
Whose dreadful rage seems to thy quiet thrall
As small birds twitterings that beneath thee fly
Winds call aloud & they may louder call
For deaf to dangers voice sublime & grand
Thou towerst in thy old majesty oer all
Tempests that break the tall masts like a wand
Howl their rage weary round thee & no more
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Old tree thou art witherd
The black bird snug hid in thy branches did sing
Thy shadow stretcht dark oer the green sprouting grass
& thou wert as green as thy mates of the spring
How alterd sin then not a leaf hast thou got
Thy honours brown round thee that cloathed the tree
The clown passeth by thee & heedeth it not
But thourt a warm source of reflection for me
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Dance & play
& sheep lie panting on each old molehill
& underneath the willows grey-green bough
Like toil a resting—lies the fallow plough
The timid hares throw daylight fears away
On the lane road to dust & dance & play
Then dabble in the grain by nought deterred
To lick the dew fall from the barleys beard
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Solitude
O how sweet I cannot tell
With thee at that hour to dwell
Stretchd the mossy bank beside
Lye to view the random tide
Where no clowns has chopt from thence
Bush nor stake to mend his fence
Cornerd stones & pebbles round
Breaking dasht wi mellow sound
Wether this or that to see
I am blest if Im wi thee
Breaking dasht wi mellow sound
Wether this or that to see
I am blest if Im wi thee
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Cows went & came
Cows went & came with every morn & night
To the wild pasture as their common right
& sheep unfolded with the rising sun
Heard the swains shout & felt their freedom won
Tracked the red fallow field & heath & plain
Or sought the brook to drink & roamed again
While the glad shepherd traced their tracks along
Free as the lark & happy as her song
Free as the lark & happy as her song
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Image by my friend #JohnAbbott
The spring head
Seek the spring head lin'd with moss
There your little feet may stand
Safely on the printing sand
While in full poss[ess]ion where
Purling eddies ripple clear
You with ease and plenty blest
Sip the coolest and the best
Then away and wet your throats
Cheer me with your warbling notes
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Image by my friend #RachelBurch
Crookd pads
Which the early rising lass
Climbs each morn wi gathering cream
Crookd pads tracking thro the grass
There where willows hing their boughs
Briars & black thorns formd a bower
Stunted thick from sheep & cows
There I stood to shun the shower
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Midnight brooding
With listning terrors round the couch of sleep
& midnight brooding with its deepest dye
Seizes on fear with dismal sympathy
I dreamd a dream of somthing kin to fate
Which superst[it]ions blackest thoughts create
Something half natural to the grave that seems
Which deaths long trance of slumber aptly dreams
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Glittering pearls
Of two much value for the clown who sung
The azure bluebells in their sapphire stems
Among green bushes low their mute bells hung
These seemed loves modest maidens dew bestrung
With blebs o' mornings glittering pearls
I loved them in the vallys where I sung
With their green drapery & crispy curls
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Weedling wild
The hawthorns here were hung with may
But still they seem in deader green
The sun e'en seems to lose its way
Nor knows the quarter it is in
I dwell on trifles like a child
I feel as ill becomes a man
& still my thoughts like weedlings wild
Grow up to blossom where they can
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