Things eternal

Man Earths poor shadow talks of Earths decay
But hath it nothing of eternal kin
No majesty that shall not pass away
No soul of greatness springing up within
Thought marks without hoar shadows of sublime
Pictures of power which if not doomed to win
Eternity stand laughing at old Time
For ages in the grand ancestral line
Of things eternal mounting to divine
I read Magnificence where ages pay
Worship like conquered foes to the Apennine
Because they could not conquer there sits Day
Too high for Night to come at mountains shine
Outpeering Time too lofty for Decay

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An ancient stone

The traveller journeying on the road alone

Sees by the highway side an ancient stone
& finds it pleasant in the weary day
To sit him down & wear an hour away
The strongest hand of mischief meddld more,
& failed to move or break or turn it o'er.
The man of feeling knew it when a boy
The only thing that nothing could destroy
& just the same as then it now appears
The fragment maybe of some hundred years
Beside the stone the wild flower gathers high
No grazing horse can bite or trample nigh
& smaller birds contented & alone
Can sit & shelter by the ancient stone

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In the middle of a dream

The very layer of crab thats wattled in the hedge 
The old post in its red paint crushed with waggons rushing through 
The teazles prickly burrs or the little hubs of sedge 
Will bring me to the old place where I lived a moon ago 
But the flowers here they tell me in their brown red white & blue 
That their sisters are now in the fields around my house at home 
Though the sun here shines as bright & as christal be the dew 
They are not so sweet as those flowers that in our meadows grew 
A mossy plank across the flood though weedy be the dyke 
Here fifty miles away & I cross another stream 
It brings me to my own fields the brigs so very like 
So here I only wander in the middle of a dream

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Sheltering hedge

The fields all cleared the labouring mice 
To sheltering hedge & wood patrol
Where hips and & haws for food suffice 
That chumbled lie about the hole

& squirrel bobbing from the eye
Is busy now about its hoard
& in old nest of crow and pie 
Its winter store is oft explored
The leaves now leave the willows grey 
& down the brook they wind
So hopes and pleasures whirl away 
& vanish from the mind

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Dank mists

Green fields no more the summer views
All sickened into ripened hues 

Of brown & grey & darksome glooms 
That mark the path where autumn comes
& in each woodlands buried way 
The dewdrop lives for half the day
Dank mists oft creep twixt earth & sky
& dreaming dim the mornings eye
& dullness wears along the while
As if the sun was loath to smile

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Happiness of life

Here lies the germ & happiness of life
The foot beat playground of the village boys
Echo is weary of the rapturous strife
& almost fades neath the excessive noise
Some race at leap-frog o'er each others back
Some chase their shadows in the evening sun
Some play at hare & hounds a noisy pack
Or ‘Duck duck under water’ shout & run
Others at hopscotch try their cautious skill
Or nine peg morris cut on grassy hill
Astraddle upon clapping gates some swee
Or tie the branches down of willow tree
A passing bell scarce makes a deeper sigh
Than the remembrances of days gone by

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A ribbond sky

Now evenings rosey streaks—a ribbond sky

Spreads in the golden light of the far west
& mighty rocks are pillowed dark & high
The image & the prototype of rest

The heavens prophesy where peace is blest—
A stillness soft as fall of silent dews
Is felt around—the very dusk looks blest
As is the maiden while her heart pursues
Her evening walk oer fields in silent dews
Ave Maria tis the hour of love
When sighs & pains & tears on beautys breast
Are whispered into blessings from above
Ave Maria tis the hour of rest
For man & woaman & the weary beast
& parents love the minature delights
That blesses all with sleep & quiet rest
Ave Maria tis the hour of night
Like to an Indian Maiden dressed in white

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