• Read more about THE BUTCHER’S HORSE AND THE BEES (1807)

THE BUTCHER’S HORSE AND THE BEES.
A VILLAGE TRAGEDY (1807)

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Published in The Monthly Mirror, NS 1 (January 1807), 59, The Sporting Magazine, 29
(1807), 308, and in The History of Little Davy’s New Hat.

• Read more about ADDRESS TO THE BRITISH CHANNEL (1806)

ADDRESS TO THE BRITISH CHANNEL (1806)

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Published in The Monthly Mirror, 22 (1806), 336–37. Stanzas one to six only reprinted
in Remains.

[Sir,

• Read more about TO A SPINDLE (1806)

TO A SPINDLE

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First published in Edward Brayley, Views in Suffolk, Norfolk, and Northamptonshire;
Illustrative of the Works of Robert Bloomfield; Accompanied with Descriptions: to

• Read more about WILD FLOWERS (1806)

MARY’S EVENING SIGH

How bright with pearl the western sky!

How glorious far and wide,

Yon lines of golden clouds that lie

So peaceful side by side!

Their deep’ning tints, the arch of light, 5

All eyes with rapture see;

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BARNHAM WATER

Fresh from the Hall of Bounty sprung,

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All editions include a note by Bloomfield:] On a sultry afternoon, late in the summer

• Read more about WILD FLOWERS (1806)

THE WOODLAND HALLÓ. (Perhaps) adapted for Music.

In our cottage, that peeps from the skirts of the wood,

I am mistress, no mother have I;

Yet blithe are my days, for my father is good,

And kind is my lover hard by;

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LOVE OF THE COUNTRY. WRITTEN AT CLARE-HALL, HERTS. June 1804

Welcome silence! welcome peace!

O most welcome, holy shade!

Thus I prove as years increase,

My heart and soul for quiet made.

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A VISIT TO RANELAGH

To Ranelagh, once in my life,

By good-natur’d force I was driv’n;

The nations had ceas’d their long strife,

And Peace

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SHOOTER’S HILL

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All editions include a footnote by Bloomfield:] Sickness may be often an incentive
to poetical composition; I found it so; and I esteem the following lines only because

• Read more about WILD FLOWERS (1806)

THE BROKEN CRUTCH. A TALE

‘I tell you, Peggy,’ said a voice behind

A hawthorn hedge, with wild briars thick entwin’d,

Where unseen trav’llers down a shady way

Journey’d beside the swaths of new-mown hay,