Page images
PDF
EPUB

The Four Seasons.

THE FOUR SEASONS.

SPRING.

WHEN early primroses appear,

And vales are deck'd with daffodils,
I hail the new reviving year,

And soothing hope my bosom fills;
The lambkin bleating on the plain,
The swallow seen with gladden'd eye,
The welcome cuckoo's merry strain,
Proclaim the joyful summer nigh.

The ploughman whistling o'er the lea,
The clacking of yon distant mill,
The throstle on the budding tree,
The tow'ring skylarks early trill:
The whispers of the western breeze,
The prattling brook that winds along ;
Such sylvan sounds my fancy please,
Supply my theme of rural song.

The fruitful orchard's lovely bloom
Now ushers in the sprightly May;
The skies have lost their wintry gloom,
The chilly gales are flown away:

F 3

53

Returning

54

The Four Seasons.

Returning nightingales appear,

And charm with song the midnight hour;
And I, their melting notes to hear,
Frequent my lone, sequester'd bower.

[merged small][ocr errors]

When golden morn's refulgent rays
Give lustre to the dewy vale,
Whilst June its rosy bloom displays,
And eglantines perfume the gale;
With shepherds on the thymy down
I love to pass the summer's day,
Or trace (and mark the privet blown)
The shady thicket's winding way.

When lads and lasses making hay,
Chat mirthful in the verdant mead,
I form for them the sportive lay,
Or pipe upon my rural reed;

With rake in hand I often walk
With them along the new-mown vale,
And cheer the swains with merry talk,
And please the nymphs with many a tale.

When

The Four Seasons..

When reapers to the golden field
Hie blithesome in the busy morn,
I rear the shock, or sickle wield,
And smiling view the ripen'd corn.

55

AUTUMN.

In wealthy autumn's evening fair,
When all the corn is gather'd in,
I to the rustic rout repair,

And help to swell the cheerful din :
We that in rural toils have join'd
Now at the farmer's board regale;
The feast enjoy with gleeful mind,
And push about the nut-brown ale.

The treasures of the cultur'd field
Are in our barns with caution stor'd;
The juicy fruits our orchards yield
Heap up the winter's ample hoard;
The balmy sweets of toiling bees
Collected are with careful hand;
We set our anxious minds at ease,
For plenty revels in the land.

When,

56

The Four Seasons.

When, favour'd by the scentful morn,

I trace thick woods or climb the rocks,
Urge on the chace with hound and horn,
And far pursue the wily fox;

His nightly ravage in the fold

The shepherd shall no longer dread,
The shouting swains shall soon behold
The caitiff number'd with the dead,

WINTER.

The lawns have lost their vivid hue,
No flow'rets bloom, no lambkins bleat;
Yet with rejoicing eyes we view
The verdure of the springing wheat:
Revolving plenty buds around,

It shall our future wealth dispense;
We'll hedge with care the precious ground,
And trust it then to Providence.

Now dark December's tempest rends
The frowning skies with dreadful ire,
And, chatting with my jocund friends,
I sit beside the blazing fire.

Your

A Wish.

Your herds now shiver in the mead,
Ye swains, their urgent calls obey;
Their steps to timely shelter lead,
And deal around the fragrant hay.

Contending storms now rage around,
With snow the fields are cover'd o'er:
Huge billows break with frightful sound,
And roll their terrors to the shore.

57

WILLIAMS.

A WISH.

LET wealth, let fame, those dazzling gifts of

fate,

Bless all the wayward sons of pomp and state; Be mine the riches of a soul refin'd,

The heart benevolent, the spotless mind,

To heaven's unerring will, in humble hope resign'd!

WILLIAMS.

A STORM.

« PreviousContinue »