"What ails my love, where can he be? He never broke a vow, Though twice the clock's reminded me
O take this world away from me; Its strife I cannot bear to see, Its very praises hurt me more
I love the fitful gust that shakes The casement all the day, And from the glossy elm tree takes
A faithless shepherd courted me, He stole away my liberty. When my poor heart was strange to men,
In the cowslip pips I lie, Hidden from the buzzing fly, While green grass beneath me lies,
What is there in those distant hills My fancy longs to see, That many a mood of joy instils?
The Spring of life is o'er with me, And love and all gone by; Like broken bough upon yon tree,
Love and thy vain employs, away From this too oft deluded breast! No longer will I court thy stay,
Ye injur'd fields, ye once were gay, When nature's hand display'd Long waving rows of willows grey,
Nature, thou accept the song, To thee the simple lines belong, Inspir'd as brushing hill and dell
O for that sweet, untroubled rest That poets oft have sung!-- The babe upon its mother's breast,
I hid my love when young till I Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite
"Will Jockey come to-day, mither? Will Jockey come to-day? He's taen sic likings to my brither
Love, though it is not chill and cold, But burning like eternal fire, Is yet not of approaches bold,
In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell us love can die, Who say to us in slander's breath
Go rose, my Chloe's bosom grace: How happy should I prove, Could I supply that envied place
I look upon the hedgerow flower, I gaze upon the hedgerow tree, I walk alone the silent hour,
My love she wears a cotton plaid, A bonnet of the straw; Her cheeks are leaves of roses spread,
My love is tall and handsome; All hearts she might command; She's matchless for her beauty,
Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long
Now happy swains review the plains, And hail the first of May; Now linnets sing to welcome spring,
Young Jenny wakens at the dawn, Fresh as carnations newly blown, And o'er the pasture every morn
Sweet comes the morning In Nature's adorning, And bright shines the dew on the buds of the thorn,
All nature owns with one accord The great and universal Lord: The sun proclaims him through the day,
And will she leave the lowly clowns For silk and satins gay, Her woollen aprons and drab gowns
Agen I'll take my idle pen And sing my bonny mountain maid-- Sweet Phoebe of the Scottish glen,
I wandered out one rainy day And heard a bird with merry joys Cry "wet my foot" for half the way;
I hid my love when young till I Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly; I hid my love to my despite
Let brutish hearts, as hard as stones, Mock The weak Muse's tender moans, As now she wails o'er Titty's bones
A false knight wooed a maiden poor, And his high halls left he To stoop in at her cottage door,
I seek her in the shady grove, And by the silent stream; I seek her where my fancies rove,
Of all the swains that meet at eve Upon the green to play, The shepherd is the lad for me,
He loved the brook's soft sound, The swallow swimming by. He loved the daisy-covered ground,
The world is taking little heed And plods from day to day: The vulgar flourish like a weed,
Now the sun his blinking beam Behind yon mountain loses, And each eye, that might evil deem,
O for that sweet, untroubled rest That poets oft have sung!-- The babe upon its mother's breast,
And has the Spring's all glorious eye No lesson to the mind? The birds that cleave the golden sky--
Sweet, uncultivated blossom, Reared in Spring's refreshing dews, Dear to every gazer's bosom,
My Anna, summer laughs in mirth, And we will of the party be, And leave the crickets in the hearth
Arise, my Isabel, arise! The sun shoots forth his early ray, The hue of love is in the skies,
I cannot touch the harp again, And sing another idle lay, To cool a maddening, burning brain,
O spirit of the wind and sky, Where doth thy harp neglected lie? Is there no heart thy bard to be,
I I met thee like the morning, though more fair, And hopes 'gan travel for a glorious day;
How many times Spring blossoms meek Have faded on the land Since last I kissed that pretty cheek,
WILLIAM. When I meet Peggy in my morning walk, She first salutes the morn, then stays to talk: