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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The storm

Slow boiling up on the horisons brim 
 
Hugh massey clouds mountainious large & grim 
 
Sluggish & slow upon the air they ride 
 
As pitch black ships oer the blue ocean glide 
 
Curling & hovering oer the gloomy south 
 
As curls the sulphur from the canons mouth 
 
More grizly in the sun the tempest comes 
 
& thro the wood wi threatnd vengance hums

Hissing more loud & loud among the trees 
 
The frighted wild wind trembles to a breeze 
 
Just turns the leaf in terryf[y]ing sighs 
 
Bows to the spirit of the storm & dies 
 
In wild pulsations beats the heart of fear 
 
At the low rumbling thunder creeping near

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Tantey Baker

Brave cordial bless thy honest maker 
At Stamford town old tantey baker 
Sells juice o thine woud cure the ague 
A tartan stroke 
A quarts gen manys legs a shaker 
& mine its broke 
Ah that I ha'nt a pen to scrawl 
Like burns's wiskey quill wi all 
Now I ha namd ‘th'hole i'th' wall’ 
Much mores the pity 
Theres none throught stamford but shoud call 
I'bakers gitty

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Hues of every dye

Yet but awhile the slumbering weather flings
Its murky prison round. then winds wake loud
With sudden stir the startled forest sings
Winters returning song cloud races cloud
& the horizon throws away its shroud
Sweeping a stretching circle from the eye
Storms upon storms in quick succession crowd
& oer the sameness of the purple sky
Heaven paints with hurried hand wild hues of every dye

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Winter geese

Yon ponds thick ice for waiting stock to drink 

A wild confusion momentary wakes 

From gabbling geese that loiter on the brink 

Long lockd from water by the winter grim 

They mope & linger round their haunts in vain 

Till such scant chances gives them leave to swim 

& there they clamour till its froze again 

Now as one fails the beaten track to meet 

Of milking maids & early foddering boys 

The snow harsh presses neath ones hastning feet 

Crumping & crumping with incessant noise 

& brushing branches bye till then unstird 

A powdery shower keeps constant pothering round 

& een from movments of a startld bird 

The trees white cloathing shivers to the ground 


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Modern Love

Modern love like to traffic turns all upon gain 
& beautys shov'd out of the fashion 
False curls paint & patches all labour in vain 
For ex[c]iting an amourous passion 
Since wrinkld old shadows—wrong side o' four score 
Where mouldy old coin is in plenty 
Are prefer'd by our modern love jobbers before 
The plump rosey beautys o' Twenty 
So now fusty maidens your sorrows lay by 
Sin' your blest wi' a friend in your riches 
Your hearts need no longer to dwindle & sigh 
Nor ache at the sight o' the breeches

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Schoolboys

The schoolboys still their morning ramble take 
To neighboring village school with playing speed
Loitering with passtimes leisure till they quake
Oft looking up the wild geese droves to heed
Watching the letters which their journeys make
Or plucking haws on which their fieldfares feed
& hips and sloes -- & on each shallow lake 
Making glib slides were they like shadows go 
Till some fresh passtimes in their minds awake
Then off they start anew & hasty blow 
Their numbd & clumpsing fingures till they glow
Then races with their shadows wildly run 
That stride huge giants oer the shining snow 
In the pale splendour of the winter sun

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