Azure bluebells

Of too 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 valleys where I sung

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Image by my friend #RachelBurch

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

Tho floods of winter bustling fall

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

Smiling in sunshine as the storm frowns by

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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Greenwood side path

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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Solitary oak

Old noted oak I saw thee in a mood 

Of vague indifference—& yet with me 

Thy memory like thy fate hath lingering stood 

Like an old hermit in the lonely sea 

Of grass that waves around thee—Solitude

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