On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonel… I’ve seen the winter floods their… Through each old arch that tremble… Bent o’er its wall to watch the da… As their old stations would be was…

I sleep with thee, and wake with t… And yet thou art not there; I fill my arms with thoughts of th… And press the common air. Thy eyes are gazing upon mine,

Sweet chestnuts brown like soling… The larch trees, like the colour o… That paled sky in the Autumn seem… What a strange scene before us now… Red, brown, and yellow, russet, bl…

Now summer is in flower and nature… Is never silent round her sultry b… Insects as small as dust are never… Wi’ glittering dance and reeling i… And green wood fly and blossom hau…

Grasshoppers go in many a thumming… And now to stalks of tasseled sow—… That shakes and swees awhile, but… While arching oxeye doubles with h… Next on the cat—tail—grass with fa…

The shepherd on his journey heard… His dog among the bushes barking h… The ploughman ran and gave a heart… He found a weary fox and beat him… The ploughman laughed and would ha…

These tiny loiterers on the barley… And happy units of a numerous herd Of playfellows, the laughing Summ… Mocking the sunshine on their glit… How merrily they creep, and run, a…

How sweet and pleasant grows the w… Through summer time again While Landrails call from day to… Amid the grass and grain We hear it in the weeding time

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.… What are life’s joys and gains? What pleasures crowd its ways, That man should take such pains To seek them all his days?

In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell us love can die, Who say to us in slander’s breath That love belongs to sin and death… From heaven it came on angel’s win…

Harvest awakes the morning still And toils rude groups the valleys… Deserted is each cottage hearth To all life save the crickets mirt… Each burring wheel their sabbath m…

I hid my love when young till I Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly… I hid my love to my despite Till I could not bear to look at… I dare not gaze upon her face

The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight, With narrow pointed wings Whews o’er our heads —soon out of… And as she flies she sings: And darting down the hedgerow side

Here morning in the ploughman’s so… Ere yet one footstep shows in all… And twilight in the east, a doubt… Shows not her sleeve of grey to kn… Woke early, I arose and thought t…

Who hath not felt the influence th… The weary mind in summers sultry h… When wandering thickest woods bene… Of ancient oaks and brushing namel… That verge the little ride who hat…