Summer evening

The frog half fearful jumps across the path, 
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve 
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath; 
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive, 
Till past, -- and then the cricket sings more strong, 
And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear 
The short night weary with their fretting song. 
Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare, 
Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank 
The yellowhammer flutters in short fears 
From off its nest hid in the grasses rank, 
And drops again when no more noise it hears. 
Thus nature's human link and endless thrall, 
Proud man, still seems the enemy of all. 

MP IV 147
Printed in the Stamford Champion - 20 April 1830

By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams

[Image: Shelly Rolinson]

By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams
How oft I stretch me in the Silent Shade
Hopefully Wishing in some pleasing dreams
To Catch a 'zemblance of the lovley Maid
But ah I lay me on the Ground in vain
Waking or Sleeping—be it as It will
Distressing Scenes disturb my Frantic Brain
& Grief & Anguish my Companions still
Nay even when my Flimsy hope prevails
& I to Clasp her stretch my arms in vain
In that Fond Moment the False Vision fails
& Waking leaves me to severer pain
O Wheres the Man that lives to mourn like me
& in vain Sighs to Waste his lingering Breath
When easy Ways are known to set him free
& make him happy in the arms of Death

EP I 219 (excerpt)

For her (...) I loved her (...)

[Image : Anne Lee]

For her for one whose very name is yet
My hell or heaven—& will ever be
Falsehood is doubt—but I can ne'er forget
Oaths virtuous falsehood volunteered to me
To make my soul new bonds which God made free
Gods gift is love & do I wrong the giver
To place affections wrong from Gods decree
—Now when farewell upon my lips did quiver
& all seemed lost—I loved her more then ever

I loved her in all climes beneath the sun

Her name was like a jewel in my heart
Twas heavens own choice—& so Gods will be done
Love ties that keep unbroken cannot part
Nor can cold abscence sever or desert
That simple beauty blessed with matchless charms
Oceans have rolled between us—not to part

E'en Icelands snows true loves delirium warms
For there Ive dreamed—& Mary filled my arms

(Child Harold, lines 291 - 308)