HOB’S EPITAPH
A Grey-owl was I when on earth;
My master, a wondrous wise-man,
Found out my deserts and my worth,
And would needs have me bred an exciseman.
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
THE SOLDIER’S RETURN
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
HAPPINESS OF GLEANERS
—Welcome the cot’s
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
CHARITY
In moorland cot—or hovel by the road,
Rest the poor Peasant and his shiv’ring boy,
—And theirs we deem Contentment’s blest abode,
Where Fancy riots in ideal joy!—
Shall this bar charity—when spare and thin5
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
THE FLOWERS OF THE MEAD
How much to be wish’d that the flowers of the mead
The pleasures of converse could yield;
And be to our bosoms, wherever we tread,
The reasoning sweets of the field!
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
FRAGMENT
’Twas when the abbey rear’d its spires,
Where good St. Edmund buried lies,
A cloister’d maid, with holy fires,
Subdued Love’s rebel tears and sighs.
At times subdued, at times she wept, 5
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
[WINE, beauty, smiles, and social mirth]
Wine, beauty, smiles, and social mirth,
Right welcome to the table;
These!—every mother’s son of earth
Will honour!—while he’s able.
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
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)
ON REPAIRING A MINIATURE BUST OF BUONAPARTE. FOR MRS. PALMER
madam,
REMAINS OF ROBERT BLOOMFIELD (1824)
SONNET. TO FIFTEEN GNATS SEEN DANCING IN THE SUN-BEAMS ON JAN. 3
Welcome, ye little fools, to cheer us now,
With recollections of a summer’s eve;
And, though my heart, can not the cheat believe,
Still merrily dance about your leafless bough.