Heavy rain

The shepherd leaves his unprotected flock 
 
& flies for shelter in some scooping rock 
 
There hides in fear from the dread boding wrath 
 
Lest rocks shoud tremble when it sallies forth 
 
& that almighty power that bids it roar 
 
Has seald the doom when time shall be no more 
 
The cotters family cringe round the harth 
 
Where all is saddnd but the crickets mirth 


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Approach of Spring

Ive met the Winters biting breath
In Natures wild retreat
When Silence listens as in death
& thought its wildness sweet
& I have loved the Winters calm
When frost has left the plain
When suns that morning wakend warm
Left eve to freeze again

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Toiling

 

I feel it necessary to temper the romantic notions we have of life in the outdoors in the early 19th century as an agricultural labourer:

Toiling in the naked fields
Where no bush a shelter yield
Needy Labour dithering stands
Beats & blows his numbing hands
& upon the crumping snows
Stamps in vain to warm his toes
Leaves are fled that once had power
To resist a summer shower
& the wind so piercing blows
Winnowing small the drifting snows

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Poesys measured feet

Like boys that run behind the loaded wain
For the mere joy of riding back again
When summer from the meadow carts the hay
& school hours leave them half a day to play
So I with leisure on three sides a sheet
Of foolscap dance with poesys measured feet
Just to ride post upon the wings of time
& kill a care to friendship turned in rhyme

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I early ramble

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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Housewives tales

Housewives discoursing 'bout their hens & cocks
Spinning long stories wearing half the day
Sad deeds bewailing of the prowling fox
How in the roost the thief had knav'd his way
& made their market-profits all a prey
& other losses too the dames recite
Of chick & duck & gosling gone astray
All falling prizes to the swopping kite
& so the story runs both morning noon & night

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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd

Swifter than thought

Where the deer with their shadows passed swifter than thought
& the hare from the braken went limping along
Where the pheasants red eye for a moment was caught
Then vanished away like a spinning bees song
Ye green shades of Burghley how lovely you seem
Your sweet spreading oaks & your braken so green
Your green plots as sweet as a shepherd boys dream
Neath the shade of dark trees where Ive many a day been

& sitting in braken or roots of the lime
Amusing my leisure in ballads & rhyme

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