The Farmer's Boy: A Rural Poem

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Vernor and Hood, 1800 - Pastoral poetry - 102 pages
 

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Page 19 - Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride, Or gazed in merry clusters by your side ? Ye who can smile, to wisdom no disgrace, At the arch meaning of a kitten's face...
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 45 - The widening distance which I daily see, Has Wealth done this? - then Wealth's a foe to me; Foe to our rights ; that leaves a powerful few The paths of emulation to pursue: For emulation stoops to us no more: The hope of humble industry is o'er; The blameless hope, the cheering sweet presage Of future comforts for declining age.
Page 6 - And strew'd with corn to crown the rising year ; And o'er the whole Giles once transverse again. In earth's moist bosom buries up the grain. The work is done ; no more to man is given ; The grateful farmer trusts the rest to Heaven. Yet oft with anxious heart he looks around, And marks the first green blade that breaks the ground...
Page 29 - Here branches bend, there corn o'ertops his head. Green covert, hail ! for through the varying year No hours so sweet, no scene to him so dear. Here Wisdom's placid eye delighted sees His frequent intervals of lonely ease, And with one ray his infant soul inspires, Just kindling there her never-dying fires, Whence solitude derives peculiar charms, And heaven-directed thought his bosom warms.
Page 86 - Thy Dells by wint'ry currents worn, Secluded haunts, how dear to me ! From all but Nature's converse borne, No ear to hear, no eye to see. Their...
Page 44 - tis the peasant's curse, That hourly makes his wretched station worse; Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan That rank to rank cements, as man to man...
Page 32 - And ripening harvest rustles in the gale. A glorious sight, if glory dwells below, Where Heaven's munificence makes all the show, O'er every field and golden prospect found, That glads the Ploughman's Sunday morning's round, When on some eminence he takes his stand, To judge the smiling produce of the land.
Page 25 - THE FARMER'S life displays in every part A moral lesson to the sensual heart. Though in the lap of Plenty, thoughtful still, He looks beyond the present good or ill; Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth, From changeful seasons, or capricious earth; • But views the future with the present hours, And looks for failures as he looks for show'ers; For casual as for certain want prepares, And round his yard the reeking haystack rears; Provident turn of the Farmer's mind.
Page 88 - In part these nightly terrors to dispel, Giles, ere he sleeps, his little flock must tell. From the fireside with many a shrug he hies, Glad if the full-orb'd moon salute his eyes, And through th' unbroken stillness of the night Shed on his path her beams of cheering light.

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