The new spring grass was high
The new pinks nest was seen
Where little padded lanes went bye
In hedges warm & green
When the golden evening came
& the tree tops like a flame
Glittered on the gazing eye
Like golden groves in a golden sky
The shepherd seeks the field
Where the awthorn hedges shield
The lane way to the open plain
& sets his fold of trays again
Some fragments from the 1830s
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