Life was

Life was & is & still will be

Of cares the endless history

By hopes conceived by trouble penned

Which joys began & sorrows end

 

If at the first a smile appears

'Tis but the prologue unto tears

Where each leaf is when turned oer

The echo of those turned before

 

Life was & is & will be on

A ruin with its glory gone

A wreck that braves the storms in vain

For calms it neer shall know again

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I venture forth

The sharp wind shivers in the warm gorse blossoms
& trembles in the dead grass oer 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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Willows & brambles

Tho' fine provd the morning O sad provd the ramble
Adown by the Willows adown by the lee
Adown by the cottage where Hedge rows of bramble
Hides it from all strangers but unlucky me

For there I espied and admird a young rosie
I lovd & had hopes in possesing the flower
Till Cupid flew laughing away with the posie
& left me the thorns which I feel at this hour

O Willows & brambles what deamon beset me
To make me to go where your cottage arose
Yet still was you all I could hope to forget ye
But o theres no hopes in forgetting the rose

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Peaceful windings

Wereover many a stile neeth willows grey
The winding footpath leaves the public way
Free from the dusty din & ceasless chime
Of bustling waggons in the summer time
Crossing a brook—were braving storms in vain

Two willows fell & still for brigs remain
Corn field & clover closes leading down
In peacful windings to the neighbouring town

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Dear spots

Tho thou wert not the place of my being & birth

Tho I spent not the sports of my childhood in thee

Mid the dear spots we call edens on earth

Thou art one of the fairest thats known unto me

Five beautiful springs thee & thine have I known

Thy woods & thy brooks winding peacful at will

Thy heaths & like hermitage standing alone

Thy cottage that smoaks by the side of a hill

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The dear haunts

I lovd the dear haunts of the sweet solitudes

That round its lome walls in the circle do lye

Were no living thing all the season intrudes

But a bird or a bee humming wearisome bye

& Ive hunted for spots by the brook & have found

The lonliest existing an hour to abide

With nought but the green light of trees flitting round

& the shadow that seemed stretchd asleep by my side

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My wild eye in rapture

Swamps of wild rush beds & sloughs squashy traces
Grounds of rough fallows wi thistle & weed
Flats & low vallies of king cups & daiseys
Sweetest of subjects are ye for my reed

Ye commons left free in the rude rags of nature
Ye brown heaths be cloathed in furze as ye be
My wild eye in rapture adores e'ery feature
Yere as dear as this heart in my bosom to me

O native endearments I woud not forsake ye
I woud not forsake ye for sweetest of scenes
For sweetest of gardens that nature coud make me
I woud not forsake ye dear vallies & greens

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