#English
The schoolboys still their morning… To neighboring village school with… Loitering with passtime’s leisure… Oft looking up the wild—geese drov… Watching the letters which their j…
My love she wears a cotton plaid, A bonnet of the straw; Her cheeks are leaves of roses spr… Her lips are like the haw. In truth she is as sweet a maid
What is there in those distant hil… My fancy longs to see, That many a mood of joy instils? Say what can fancy be? Do old oaks thicken all the woods,
Come, pensive Autumn, with thy cl… And falling leaves and pastures lo… A luscious charm hangs on thy fade… More sweet than Summer in her lov… Who in her blooming uniform of gre…
O for that sweet, untroubled rest That poets oft have sung!— The babe upon its mother’s breast, The bird upon its young, The heart asleep without a pain—
How sweet and pleasant grows the w… Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to… Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time
By the old tavern door on the caus… A hogshead of stingo just rolled f… And there stood the blacksmith awa… As dry as the cinders that lay in… And there stood the cobbler as dry…
Why should man’s high aspiring min… Burn in him with so proud a breath… When all his haughty views can fin… In this world yields to death? The fair, the brave, the vain, the…
The Spring is come, and Spring fl… The crocus, patty kay, the rich he… The polyanthus peeps with blebs of… And daisy flowers; the buds swell… While oer the odd flowers swim gra…
I saw her crop a rose Right early in the day, And I went to kiss the place Where she broke the rose away And I saw the patten rings
Among the taller wood with ivy hun… The old fox plays and dances round… She snuffs and barks if any passes… And swings her tail and turns prep… The horseman hurries by, she bolts…
I ne’er was struck before that hou… With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet f… And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale…
When in summer thou walkest In the meads by the river, And to thyself talkest, Dost thou think of one ever— A lost and a lorn one
A path, old tree, goes by thee cro… And through this little gate that… Against thy rifted trunk, what ste… Though but a lonely way, yet myste… Oer crowds of pastoral scenes reco…
I am—yet what I am none cares or… My friends forsake me like a memor… I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious… Like shadows in love’s frenzied st…