The matted shades

Oh I do love to force a way
Through woods where lone the woodman goes
Through all the matted shades to stray
The brambles tearing at my clothes
& it may tear I love the noise
& hug the solitary joys

The woodman he from top to toe

In leathern doublet brushes on

He cares not where his rambles go

Thorns briers he beats them every one

Their utmost spite his armour foils

Unhurt he dares his daily toils

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Silent birds

Why are ye silent Birds
Where do ye fly
Winters not violent
With such a Spring sky
The wheatlands are green snow & frost are away
Birds why are ye silent on such a sweet day?

By the slated pig-stye
The redbreast scarce whispers
Where last Autumns leaves lie
The hedge sparrow just lispers
& why are the chaffinch & bullfinch so still
While the sulphur primroses bedeck the wood hill?

The bright yellow-hammers
Are strutting about
All still & none stammers
A single note out
From the hedge starts the blackbird at brook side to drink
I thought hed have whistled but he only said "prink”

The tree-creeper hustles
Up firs rusty bark
All silent he bustles
We neednt say hark
Theres no song in the forest in field or in wood
Yet the sun gilds the grass as though come in for good

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Those distant hills

What is there in those distant hills 

My fancy longs to see
That many a mood of joy instils
Say what can fancy be? 

Do old oaks thicken all the woods
With weeds & brakes as here
Does common water make the floods
That's common everywhere? 

Is grass the green that clothes the ground
Are springs the common springs
Daisies & cowslips dropping round
Are such the flowers she brings? 

Their brooms are they [the] yellow broom
Their briers the smelling brier? 
Questions from fancy seldom come 
But such are everywhere

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In safe assurance

This scene how beautious to the musing mind 
That now swift slides from my enchanted view 

The sun sweet setting yon far hills behind 
In other worlds his visits to renew 
What spangling glories all around him shine 
What nameless colours cloudless & serene 
Rich heavenly colours brightest in decline 
Atend his exit from this lovley scene 
So sets the Christians sun in glories clear 
So shines his soul at his departure here 
No clouding doubts nor misty fears arise 
To dim hopes golden rays of being forgiven 
His sun sweet setting in the clearest skies 
In safe assurance wings the soul to heaven

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Two short years

  

  O once I loved a pretty girl, and dearly love her still;

  I courted her in happiness for two short years or more.

  And when I think of Mary it turns my bosom chill,

  For my little of life's happiness is faded and is o'er.

  O fair was Mary Littlechild, and happy as the bee,

  And sweet was bonny Mary as the song of forest bird;

  And the smile upon her red lips was very dear to me,

  And her tale of love the sweetest that my ear has ever heard

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All to brown

I love to seek the brakes & fern

& rabbits up and down 
& then the pleasant autumn comes
& turns them all to brown

To common eyes they only seem 
A desert waste & drear

To taste & love they always shine
A garden through the year

Lord keep my love for quiet joys
O keep me to thy will
I know thy works & always find 
Thy mercies kinder still

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The Tramp

He eats (a moments stoppage to his song) 
The stolen turnip as he goes along
& hops along & heeds with careless eye 
The passing crowded stage coach reeling bye
He talks to none but wends his silent way
& finds a hovel at the close of day
Or under any hedge his house is made
He has no calling & he owns no trade
An old smoaked blanket arches oer his head
A whisp of straw or stubble makes his bed
He knows a lawless law that claims no kin 
But meet & plunder on & feel no sin— 
No matter where they go or where they dwell 
They dally with the winds & laugh at hell

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Self interest

Self interest saw thee stand in freedoms ways
So thy old shadow must a tyrant be
Thoust heard the knave abusing those in power
Bawl freedom loud & then opress the free
Thoust sheltered hypocrites in many a shower
That when in power would never shelter thee
Thoust heard the knave supply his canting powers
With wrongs illusions when he wanted friends
That bawled for shelter when he lived in showers
& when clouds vanished made thy shade amends
With axe at root he felled thee to the ground
& barked of freedom—O I hate the sound

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At the kitchen fire

Love has no out door charms for winter weather 
Twas spring & summer when we met together 
Yet when a chance fell out—at her desire 
I waited on her at the kitchen fire 
& often made her evening labour light 
& took the hugh pot off the hooks at night 
Were soon as ere she thought the job was oer 
Shed make excuse to meet me at the door 
In whispering ways shed oer my shoulder lean 
While I took kisses from my toil unseen 
Whenever she sat up to bake or brew 
I slove to help her when no body knew

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Eternity

Man, Earth's poor shadow! talks of Earth's decay:
But hath it nothing of eternal kin?
No majesty that shall not pass away?
No soul of greatness springing up within?
Thought marks without hoar shadows of sublime,
Pictures of power, which if not doomed to win
Eternity, stand laughing at old Time
For ages: in the grand ancestral line
Of things eternal, mounting to divine,
I read Magnificence where ages pay
Worship like conquered foes to the Apennine,
Because they could not conquer. here sits Day
Too high for Night to come at--mountains shine,
Outpeering Time, too lofty for decay.

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The beginning ‘o Love

Remember thee love yes how can I forget thee

Since the very first hour that my happiness met thee

Remember thee love what the sword cannot sever
Is mine & mine only for ever & ever
Remember thee love yes I will love remember
From April to May & from June to December
The past & the present & hereafter to come
I'll remember them all for thy heart is my home
I'll think of thee love i' thy happiest smile
Till the sunbeams o' day leave the Night to our Isle
Till the end o' the world thou my darling shall prove
And the finish o' times the begining o' Love

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Woodcutters night song

Welcome red & roundy sun
  Dropping lowly in the west
Now my hard days work is done
  Im as happy as the best

Joyful are the thoughts of home
  Now Im ready for my chair
So till morrow mornings come
  Bill & mittens lie ye there

Though to leave your pretty song
  Little birds it gives me pain
Yet to morrow is not long 
  Then Im with you all again

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Come maiden sad

Come maiden sad of sorrows & of sighs 
Pale melancholy with the downcast look
Come when the dewy eve the landscape dyes
The church yard yew well pass & gurgling brook

& see the snow white moth on stilly breeze
Dance by the spinney hedge & through the leaves

While the dull visions trouble & deceives 
Thy soul with troubles all thine own
The stilly eve thy secret woe receives
Maiden thourt like the church yards mossy stone
Thou readest thy troubles to the world unknown
Thy kind face soothes all sorrow save thine own

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Granduers grove

Wild delights of natures shade
Sings its songs of Infancy 
Could my humble songs perswade 
Neer an ax should injure thee 
Many a line should thee recall 
As its green head stoopd the ground 
O to see my favrites fall 
My soul shudders at the sound 
Granduers groves my eye disdains 
Uniformd to art & skill 
Natures freedom suits my strains 
Where thy branches spread

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Desolations hand

As fair & sweet they bloomd thy plains among
As blooms those Edens by the poets sung
Now all laid waste by desolations hand
Whose cursed weapons levels half the land
Oh who could see my dear green willows fall
What feeling heart but dropt a tear for all
Accursed wealth oer bounding human laws
Of every evil thou remains the cause
Victims of want those wretches such as me
Too truly lay their wretchedness to thee
Thou art the bar that keeps from being fed
& thine our loss of labour & of bread
Thou art the cause that levels every tree
& woods bow down to clear a way for thee

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Neglect

The cottage is neglected
Where young men used to go 
& talk about her beauty 
& see her come and go
The bench agen her cottage 
Where she used to work at eve 
Is vanished with the woodbine
& all are taken leave
Her cottage is neglected
Her garden gathers green
The summer comes unnoticed
Her flowers are never seen

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The boys playground

Here lies the germ & happiness of life 
The foot-beat playground of the village boys
Echo is weary of the rapturous strife
& almost fades neath the excessive noise
Some race at leap-frog oer each others back
Some chase their shadows in the evening sun
Some play at hare & hounds a noisy pack
Or ‘Duck duck under water’ shout & run
Others at hopscotch try their cautious skill
Or nine-peg morris cut on grassy hill
Astraddle upon clapping gates some swee
Or tie the branches down of willow tree
A passing-bell scarce makes a deeper sigh
Than the remembrances of days gone by

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Garden boys

As stubborn as the oak that cannot bend

He seeks no master & he has no friend

& round the ground & bawling often goes

& makes a merry feast of roasted sloes

Bawling together all the live long day

A loud & drawling song had all [astray]      

& all is joyous music save that noise

That comes in summered oaths from garden boys

Who run & shout yet cannot drive away

The restless sheep from trespass in the hay

Nor make the crops the shallow fold again

So there the stubborn trespassers remain

Altho the water is so shallow       

That larger pebbles          even lye

Half out of water & their surface dry

Two complete verses and a few odd lines, yet this has been ignored as a ‘fragment’.  

I think it’s rather beautiful.

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The thorns

Tho' fine prov'd the morning O sad prov'd the ramble

     Adown by the Willows adown by the lee
Adown by the cottage where Hedge rows of bramble
     Hides it from all strangers but unlucky me

For there I espied & admir'd a young rosie
      lov'd & had hopes in possesing the flower
Till Cupid flew laughing away with the posie
     & left me the thorns which I feel at this hour

O Willows & brambles—what deamon beset me
     To make me to go where your cottage arose
Yet still was you all I could hope to forget ye
     But o there's no hopes in forgetting the rose

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The ancient stone

The traveller journeying on the road alone

Sees by the highway side an ancient stone
& finds it pleasant in the weary day
To sit him down & wear an hour away
The strongest hand of mischief meddld more
& failed to move or break or turn it oer
The man of feeling knew it when a boy
The only thing that nothing could destroy
& just the same as then it now appears
The fragment maybe of some hundred years
Beside the stone the wild flower gathers high
No grazing horse can bite or trample nigh
& smaller birds contented & alone
Can sit & shelter by the ancient stone

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