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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#poetry #environment 

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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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Tho twas hot

Then I sought the woodland side 
Cool the breeze my face did meet 
& the sun the shade did hide 
Tho twas hot it seemed sweet 
& as while I clum the hill 
Many a distant charm I found 
Pausing on the lagging mill 
That scarcly movd its sails around 
Hanging oer a gate or stile 
Till my curious eye did tire 
Leisure was employd awhile 
Counting many a peeping spire 
While the hot sun gun to wain 
Cooling glooms fast deep[n]ing still

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… leads to joy

The crooked stile with little steps that aid

The climbing meets us & the pleasant grass

& hedgerows old with arbours ready made

For weariness to rest in pleasant shade

Surround us & with ecstasy we pass

Wild flower & insect tribes that ever mate

With joy & dance from every step we take

In numberless confusion all employ

Their little aims for peace & pleasures sake

& every summers footpath leads to joy

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Summer

The water elder is in flower
The woods are all in green
The dark oak forms a shady bower
& lovely is the scene

The wild flower of the summer fields
Clothes every swelling hill
& angels voices seem to shield
In murmurs of the rill

That whimpers o'er its winding source
As clear as morning showers
Where grass & weeds grow rank & coarse
& clouds of watered flowers
The fallen oak stripped of its bark
In the wood valley lies
Where dropping down the woodland lark
Sings summer melodies

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Image by my friend Carry Akroyd

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Ramping kecks

Where beesom weed that high wind leaves 
Blossoms & blooms above the eaves 
The old cow crib is mossed & green 
As if it just had painted been 
The ramping kecks in orchard gaps 
Shake like green neighbours in white caps 
On which the snail will climb & dwell 
For three weeks in its painted shell 
There the white nosed ‘clock a clay’ 
Red & black spot[t]ed sits all day

#poetry #environment 

#honesty

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