• Read more about GOOD TIDINGS (1804)

GOOD TIDINGS; OR, NEWS FROM THE FARM (1804)

How vain this tribute; vain this lowly lay;

Yet nought is vain which gratitude inspires!

The Muse, besides, her duty thus approves

To virtue, to her country, to mankind!

Thomson

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GOOD TIDINGS; OR, NEWS FROM THE FARM (1804)

Introduction

• Read more about SONG FOR JENNER’S BIRTHDAY (1803)

SONG, SUNG BY MR. BLOOMFIELD AT THE ANNIVERSARY OF DOCTOR JENNER’S BIRTH-DAY, 1803.

⁽¹⁾

Published in The Gentleman’s Magazine for June 1803, (pp. 550–1); it also appeared

• Read more about RURAL TALES, BALLADS AND SONGS (1802)

WINTER SONG

1

Dear Boy, throw that Icicle down,

And sweep this deep Snow from the door:

Old Winter comes on with a frown;

A terrible frown for the poor.

In a Season so rude and forlorn,5

How can age, how can infancy bear

• Read more about MARY’S EVENING SIGH (1801–2)

MARY’S EVENING SIGH (1802)

⁽¹⁾

Published in The Monthly Mirror, 14 (1802), 195, and later included, in a lightly
revised form, in Wild Flowers.

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LUCY. A SONG

1

THY favourite Bird is soaring still:

My Lucy, haste thee o’er the dale;

The Stream’s let loose, and from the Mill

All silent comes the balmy gale;

Yet; so lightly on its way, 5

Seems to whisper, ‘Holiday.’

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HUNTING SONG

1

YE darksome Woods where Echo dwells,

Where every bud with freedom swells

To meet the glorious day:

The morning breaks; again rejoice;

And with old Ringwood’s well-known voice 5

Bid tuneful Echo play.

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SONG. THE SHEPHERD AND HIS DOG ROVER

1

ROVER, awake! the grey Cock crows!

Come, shake your coat and go with me!

High in the East the green Hill glows;

And glory crowns our shelt’ring Tree.

The Sheep expect us at the fold: 5

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NANCY. A SONG

1

YOU ask me, dear Nancy, what makes me presume

That you cherish a secret affection for me?

When we see the Flow’rs bud, don’t we look for the Bloom?

Then, sweetest, attend, while I answer to thee.

2

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ROSY HANNAH. A SONG

1

A SPRING o’erhung with many a flow’r,

The grey sand dancing in its bed,

Embank’d beneath a Hawthorn bower,

Sent forth its waters near my head:

A rosy Lass approach’d my view; 5

I caught her blue eye’s modest beam: