romantic poems

The setting sun it gilds wi' gold And village windows blazes now
While beauty's o' the finest mould Walk the green hills grassy brow
The bramble bends wi' drops O' pearl The silver daisy's turn to green
And beautifull the lovely girl That on those lone[l]y hills was seen

Maria beautifull Maria The hum[m]ing bee the glossy fly
From sun set to their homes retire And leave thee to thy evening joy
Beaded wi' dew the zephers wing Blows coolly on thy neck so fair
Perked up thy wild flower blossoms spring And join wi thee the cooler air

" Thou'rt mine Love"

1

Thou'rt mine Love, in gladness;
In sickness, and sorrow;
Oh! — the love of to day,
Shall not change with the morrow,
While the bright mirror'd sky,
Is pourtray'd in the river:
While there's light in thine eye,
Thou'rt mine love for ever.

2

My delight's in thy keeping,
In daylight and gloaming;
I dream of thee sleeping,
And think of thee roaming.
Thou'rt mine love in gladness,
In sickness, and sorrow;
Oh! the smile of to day,

1

Love is a secret;
Like a bird in a shell;
Like a rose ere it blossom,—
All unseen will it dwell.

2

'Tis the kernel of fruits,
The germ of all flowers,
The blaze of the diamond,
The moment of hours.

3

'Tis the star in night's darkness,
The sky in the river,
The soul in mans bosom,—
That wears it for ever.

4

'Tis a word and the dearest,—
Each language has shown;
'Tis a thought the sincerest,
Any tongue has made known.—

5

O come wi' the music o' birds i' the bushes
The songs o' the blackbirds the music o' thrushes
The budding o' white thorn the daisey's i' bloom
My lovely young lassie array thee and come
Come away to the wood side the hedge row and rushes
Where the sweet little birds build their nests in the bushes
Come my lovely Miss Wilson and walk out wi' me
Down the grassy wood side—and the sweet meadow lea

2

The rooks their spring musical noises are making
The cowslips are peeping among grasses green

I love the awthorn well
The first green thing
In woods & hedges — black thorn dell
Dashed with its green first spring
When sallows shine in golden shene
These white thorn places in the black how green.

How beautifully green
Though March has but begun
To tend primroses planted in the sun
The roots thats further in
Are not begun to bud or may be just begun.

I love the white thorn bough
Hung over the mole hill
Where the spring feeding cow
Rubs off the dew drop chill

Tall grows the nettle by the hedgeway side
& bye the old barn end they shade the wall
In sunshine nodding to the angry tide
Of winds that winnows bye — these one & all
Makes up the harmony of Spring — & all
That passes feel a sudden love for flowers
They look so green — & when the soft showers fall
They grow so fast — Dock Burdocks Henbane — all
Who loves not wild flowers bye the old stone wall

The Larks in the sky love
The flowers on the lea
The white thorn's in bloom love
To please thee & me
Neath its shade we can rest love
& sit on the hill
& as we met last love
Enjoy the spring still.

The spring is for lovers
The spring is for joy
Oer the moor where the plovers
Wir hover & cry
We'll seek the white thorn love
& sit on the hill
On some sunny morn love
& be lover's still.

Where the partridge is craiking
From morning to e'en

The winter time is over love
White thorns begin to bud
& brown & green of freshness love
Enlivens all the wood

Theres white clouds got agen the sun
One daisey open on the green
The primrose shows its sulphur bud
Just where the hazel stulps are seen

& ere the april time is out
Along the ridings gravel walk
The bedlam primrose blooms about
Wi' twenty blossoms on a stalk

How happy seems the drop of dew
That nestles in the daiseys eye
How blest the cloud seems in the blue

The dancing Cowslips come in pleasant hours;
Though seldom sung, they're everybody's flowers:
They hurry from the world, and leave the cold;
And all the meadows turn from green to gold:
The shepherd finds them where he went to play,
And wears a nosegay in his mouth all day:
The maiden finds them in the pleasant grove,
And puts them in her bosom with her love;
She loves the ladysmocks: and just beyond
The water blobs close to the meadow-pond.
I've often gone — about where blackthorns stood —

I loved the Forest walks and beechen woods,
Where pleasant STOCKDALE showed me far away
Wild Enfield Chase, and pleasant Edmonton;
While Giant London, known to all the world,
Was nothing but a guess among the trees,
Though only half a day from where we stood.
Such is ambition! only great at home,
And hardly known to quiet and repose.
I loved the Forest walk, and often stood
To hear boys halloo to their wilder sheep;
While quiet TURNER sat upon a hill,
And gentle HOWARD cut his sticks and sang.