The timid hare

The timid hare seems half its fears to lose
Crouching & sleeping neath its grassy lair
& scarcely startles though the shepherd goes
Close by its home & dogs are barking there
The wild colt only turns around to stare
At passer by then knaps his hide again
& moody crows beside the road forbear
To fly though pelted by the passing swain
Thus day seems turned to night & tries to wake in vain

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Image by my friend Carry Akroyd

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The still water

Ive often gazed with pleasure by the edge

Of the old meadow lake floodwashed and crookd 

The water-rat slow rustling in the sedge

The fish-ring wavering in the clear Ive looked

In rapture on the mellow summer shine

Of the still water gleaming in the sun

Just wrinkled by the plash of quiet kine

Who knee-deep in the flags would drink—and done

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Hopes

Hopes sun shines sweet but who of hopes are proud

To see how soon it meeteth with a cloud

How many hopes & memorys went with thee

That forwerd looked to better destiny

Song seems not worth the muses care

Unless to grace it womans love be there

& fame is but a shadow crowned with bays

Without the cheering sun of womans grace

When thy young bosom at the tales it heard

Heavd up & panted like a timid bird

Thy splendid beauty blushed upon the sight

Like sudden frenzy of unlooked for flight

Thou haven of my trouble when I see
That lovely face the show is past with me

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The young brood

Among the orchard weeds from every search
Snugly & sure the old hens nest is made
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid
Who lays her washing by & far & near
Goes seeking all about from day to day
& stung with nettles tramples everywhere
But still the cackling pullet lays away
The boy on Sundays goes the stack to pull
In hopes to find her there but naught is seen
& takes his hat & thinks to find it full
Shes laid so long so many might have been
But naught is found & all is given o'er
Till the young brood come chirping to the door

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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 and sky

& dreaming dim the mornings eye

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The gay river

There the gay river laughing as it goes
Plashes with easy wave its flaggy sides
& to the calm of heart in calmness shows
What pleasure there abides
To trace its sedgy banks from trouble free
Spots solitude provides
To muse & happy be

There ruminating neath some pleasant bush
On sweet silk grass I stretch me at mine ease
Where I can pillow on the yielding rush
& acting as I please
Drop into pleasant dreams or musing lie
Mark the wind shaken trees
& cloud betravelled sky

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Damnd or blest

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

A dream of staggering horrors & of dread

Whose shadows lingerd when the dream had fled

Clinging to memory with their gloomy view

Till doubt & fancy half believd it true

That time was come or seemd as it was come

When death no longer makes the grave its home

When waking spirits leave their earthly rest

To mix forever with the damnd or blest

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