THE DAWNING OF DAY. A HUNTING SONG
The grey eye of morning, was dear to my youth,
When I sprang like the roe from my bed,
With the glow of the passions, the feelings of truth,
And the light hand of Time on my head.
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
KENTISH MARY. A BALLAD
Ye who urge harsh rules of duty,
Deeming love a childish thing;
Rebels to the reign of beauty
Listen to the song I sing.
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
POEMS FROM THE REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
Contents
MAY-DAY WITH THE MUSES (1822)
ALFRED AND JENNET
Yes, let me tell of Jennet, my last child;
In her the charms of all the rest ran wild,
And sprouted as they pleased. Still by my side,
I own she was my favourite, was my pride,
LINES WRITTEN HASTILY (1822)
LINES WRITTEN HASTILY, WHILE IN KING-STREET, MARGATE, IN AUGUST 1822, AND GIVEN TO
MR. FREEMAN OF MINSTER (1822)
Visitor! whoe’er thou art,
Respect the vine, which climbs this door;
If pain or sorrow wring thy heart,
Seek health along the breezy shore.
MAY-DAY WITH THE MUSES (1822)
ROSAMOND’S SONG OF HOPE
Sweet Hope, so oft my childhood’s friend,
I will believe thee still,
For thou canst joy with sorrow blend,
Where grief alone would kill.
When disappointments wrung my heart,5
MAY-DAY WITH THE MUSES (1822)
THE SOLDIER’S HOME
My untried muse shall no high tone assume,
Nor strut in arms;—farewell my cap and plume:
Brief be my verse, a task within my power,
I tell my feelings in one happy hour;
But what an hour was that! when from the main5
MAY-DAY WITH THE MUSES (1822)
THE SHEPHERD’S DREAM: OR, FAIRIES’ MASQUERADE
I had folded my flock, and my heart was o’erflowing,
I loiter’d beside the small lake on the heath;
The red sun, though down, left his drapery glowing,
And no sound was stirring, I heard not a breath:
MAY-DAY WITH THE MUSES (1822)
THE FORESTER
Born in a dark wood’s lonely dell,
Where echoes roar’d, and tendrils curl’d
Round a low cot, like hermit’s cell,
Old Salcey Forest