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But how unlike to April's closing days!
High climbs the sun, and darts his powerful rays;
Whitens the fresh drawn mould and pierces through
The cumbrous clods that tumble round the plough.
Dear Ellen, your tales are all plenteously stored,
With the joy of some bride and the wealth of her lord,
Of her chariots and dresses,
And worldly caresses,
And servants that fly when she's waited upon:
But what can she boast if she weds unbeloved?
Can she e'er feel the joy that one morning I proved,
When I put on my new gown and waited for John?
- [Story Telling]
Fled now the sullen murmurs of the North,
The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth.
Proud crested Fiend, the World's worst foe,
Ambition, canst thou boast one deed,
Whence no unsightly horrors flow,
Nor private peace is seen to bleed?
Still Twilight, welcome! Rest, how sweet art thou!
Now eve o'erhangs the western cloud's thick brow;
The far-stretch'd curtain of retiring light,
With fiery treasures fraught; that on the sight
Flash from its bulging sides, where darkness lowers,
In Fancy's eye, a chain of mould'ring tow'rs;
Or craggy coasts just rising into view,
Midst jav'lins dire and darts of streaming blue.
The kindly intercourse will ever prove
A bond of amity and social love.
The lessons of prudence have charms,
And slighted, may lead to distress;
But the man whom benevolence warms
Is an angel who lives but to bless.
Unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts, and groves dismantled roar.
Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look,
The fields his study, nature was his book.
- Farmer's Boy--Spring (l. 31) [Students]
Love in a shower safe shelter took,
In a rosy bower beside a brook,
And winked and nodded with conscious pride
To his votaries drenched on the other side.
Come hither, sweet maids, there's a bridge below,
The toll-keeper, Hymen, will let you through.
Come over the stream to me.
- Glee (st. 1) [Love]
Build me a shrine, and I could kneel
To rural Gods, or prostrate fall;
Did I not see, did I not feel.
That One Great Spirit governs all.
O Heaven, permit that I may lie
Where o'er my corse green branches wave;
And those who from life's tumults fly
With kindred feelings press my grave.
- Love of the Country (st. 4) [Graves]
Remember the Viper:--'twas close at your feet,
How you started and threw yourself into my arms;
Not a strawberry there was so ripe nor so sweet
As the lips which I kiss'd to subdue your alarms.
- Nancy (st. 4) [Kisses]
E'en drunken Andrew felt the blow
That innocence can give,
When its resistless accents flow
To bid affection live.
- The Drunken Father (st. 18) [Innocence]
When now, unsparing as the scourge of war,
Blasts follow blasts and groves dismantled roar;
Around their home the storm-pinched cattle lows,
No nourishment in frozen pasture grows;
Yet frozen pastures every morn resound
With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground.
- The Farmer's Boy--Winter (st. 2) [Winter]