The farmer's boy: Rural tales. ballads, and songs: Wild flowers; or, pastoral and local poetry: and The banks of Wye

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Thomas Allman, 1853 - 225 pages
 

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Page 25 - No rake takes here what Heaven to all bestows — Children of want, for you the bounty flows ! And every cottage from the plenteous store Receives a burden nightly at its door. Hark ! where the sweeping scythe now rips along, Each sturdy mower, emulous and strong, Whose writhing form meridian heat defies, Bends o'er his work, and every sinew tries; Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet, But spares the rising clover, short and sweet.
Page 91 - THE Lawns were dry in Euston Park ; (Here Truth inspires my Tale;) The lonely footpath, still and dark, Led over Hill and Dale. Benighted was an ancient Dame, And fearful haste she made To gain the vale of Fakenham, And hail its Willow shade. Her footsteps knew no idle stops, But follow'd faster still; And echo'd to the darksome Copse That whisper'd on the Hill...
Page 20 - Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong, The green turf trembling as they bound along ; Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb, Where every molehill is a bed of thyme ; There panting stop ; yet scarcely can refrain ; A bird, a leaf, will set them off again : Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow, Scattering the wild-briar roses into snow, Their little limbs increasing efforts try, Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly.
Page 15 - Pour'd hymns to freedom and the rising morn ; Stopt in her song perchance the starting Thrush Shook a white shower from the black-thorn bush, Where dew-drops thick as early blossoms hung, And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung.
Page 29 - Ere the cloy'd palate countless flavours tried, And cooks had Nature's judgment set aside. With thanks to Heaven, and tales of rustic lore, The mansion echoes when the banquet's o'er; A wider circle spreads, and smiles abound, As quick the frothing horn performs its round, Care's mortal foe ; that sprightly joys imparts To cheer the frame and elevate their hearts.
Page 14 - A fav'rite morsel with the rook and crow; From field to field the flock increasing goes ; To level crops most formidable foes : Their danger well the wary plunderers know, And place a watch on some conspicuous bough ; Yet oft the skulking gunner by surprise Will scatter death amongst them as they rise.
Page 93 - A favourite the ghost became ; And 'twas his fate to thrive : And long he lived and spread his fame, And kept the joke alive. For many a laugh went through the vale, And some conviction too : Each thought some other goblin tale, Perhaps, was just as true.
Page 18 - And, like the oaken shelf whereon 'tis laid, Mocks the weak efforts of the bending blade ; Or in the hog-trough rests in perfect spite, Too big to swallow, and too hard to bite. Inglorious victory ! Ye Cheshire meads, Or Severn's flow'ry dales, where Plenty treads, Was your rich milk to suffer wrongs like these, Farewell your pride ! farewell renowned cheese ! The skimmer dread, whose ravages alone Thus turn the meads
Page 16 - Till eve again recal them loaded home. And now the Dairy claims her choicest care, And half her household find employment there: Slow rolls the churn, its load of clogging cream At once foregoes its quality and name: From knotty particles first floating wide Congealing butter's dash'd from side to side; Streams of new milk through flowing coolers stray, And snow-white curd abounds, and wholesome whey.
Page 18 - Flowers of all hues, with sweetest fragrance stored ; Where'er she treads Love gladdens every plain, Delight on tiptoe bears her lucid train ; Sweet Hope with conscious brow before her flies, Anticipating wealth from Summer skies ; All Nature feels her renovating sway ; The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow gay ; And trees, and shrubs, no longer budding seen, Display the new-grown branch of lighter green ; On airy downs the idling shepherd lies, And sees to-morrow in the marbled skies.

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