Love of the Fields
Tho Ive sung in rambles cheery
Springs & summers almost weary
Ere since my boyish hand dare try
To cull a wreath of poesy
& woo that sun tand beautious maid
The rural muse beneath the shade
Binding free her carless hair
To win her smiling favours there
Tho ere since wi countless pleasures
In unpremedi[t]ated measures
Ive sung of woods & dribbling rills
& pastures speckt wi little hills
& meadows smooth as bowling greens
& fields of grain & many scenes
Were manhoods leisure joys to dwell
& boyhoods rambles lovd so well
I seek me yet those pleasing nooks
By meadows pastures woods & brooks
That were once the pride & praise
Mong the bards of other days
I love them still at early morn
Ere the lark hath left the corn
Ere the earlier swallow pops
From his nest in chimney tops
Ere the neeghbo[r]ing sparrow leaves
Sheltering barn or cottage eves
Chirping off in droves again
To the near fields spindling grain
I still seek quiets joys begun
Rising wi the rising sun
Nor doth noon my steps detain
Tho I shun the open plain
Still the pastures uncut hedge
Fields odd bush & meadows sedge
Still procure me many a bower
Were to sit & spend an hour
& the woodlands leafy rides
Were the darkest gloom abides
Neath the old oaks mossd & grey
Whose shadows seem as old as they
Were man[y] a year hath took to wing
With all the change the seasons bring
Of teaming spring & winters dearth
Since that last morning had its birth
Whose sun coud shine & wind coud breath
Upon the once green ground beneath
That hoary now the sun excludes
& fears the little that intrudes
Picturing nights shadows all the day
As happy when it wears away
& still Ill wi the evening be
When every thing is fair to see
When clouds flock resting in the west
In every hue & color drest
That oft ones pleasant fancys mock
Wi varied shapes of tower & rock
& st[r]etching coasts were sheets of blue
Thro breaks like seas oft glimmer thro
& sungilt mountains intervene
With seeming pleasing vales between
While the suns heat is all declind
& but its shadows live behind
& still I wind the narrow lane
& burst on open fields again
Marking the lark drop from the sky
& qawking crows flop weary bye
& hombound swallows quickly pass
Stooping to brush the dewey grass
& swain wi tools tuckd neath his arm
Hastening to the neighboring farm
While before him runs his dog
Startling lark & nimble frog
As he snuffs the trackd grass oer
Were the hare hath been before
Often eager bustling bye
After one wi fruitless cry
Till its lost in wood or field
Or his strength is glad to yield
Wi lolling tongue & soberd look
Lapping as he leaps the brook
Dropping his tail right mellancholy
Like one awakend from his folly
The swains footsteps he glad retraces
& by his side contented paces
& the merry milking folks
Tinkling wi their swinging yokes
Laughing on their evening way
Making labour light as play
& scenes & things of sight or sound
That summers pencil pictures round
These still are things of love for me
& own unwearied witchery
The willows wavering to the breeze
That checkering shines mid other trees
As tho the mornings misty vail
Yet lingerd in its shadows pale
The wind that gives the thistle seed
Its wings & swims it oer the mead
& floats the feather high in air
From were the partridge lies at lair
Scuffling were high the thistle shields
Mid the red dust of fallow fields
The wirl puff that wi minute flirt
Lifts up the straws & powdery dirt
Along the summer road & heaves
From pingle ground the witherd leaves
Of which last autum made its bed
Rustling neath the shepherds tread
As oft beneath their bowers retreat
He seeks stray lambs that shun the heat
& hurtles high wi playful bound
The haycock tops in meadow ground
Neath which the maid wi bosom bare
Toys wi her sun burnt lover there
The rain bow shining oer the cloud
In arching colors newly proud
Rich glossy stains of watery green
& red & orange flush between
While oer it in a faded hue
Its fainting shadow dims the blue
That in a moments breath decays
& shrinks to nothing ere we gaze
The woodbines that in arbours weaves
The heath brake wi its thousand leaves
& thyme hill neath its shadow green
& featherd fern in woody screen
The bleating flocks & lowing herds
The humming bee & chirping birds
That wend oer hill & vally free
All all have still delights for me
& the softly soothing sound
Were the wind is breathing round
Not in loud imprisond brawls
Mid the citys crowded walls
But were its harsher breath recieves
Softness mid the forest leaves
Swimming over bush & tree
Murmering into melody
Or in the summers lessening noon
To spy the you[n]g half horned moon
In the skyes mirror glimmer pale
Thro daylights half reflecting vale
Ere yet the sun leans half way down
The western slope of days sojourn
Seen plainer as racks vapouring dun
Of odd clouds muffle round the sun
Or mark by turns in shelterd nook
Som distant cottage chimney smoke
Rising like mist in curling shrouds
Till met the sky then melts to clouds
Till I am wearied wi each sight
Then Ill seek the woods brown light
Were beetles brown wi sawning hum
& white wingd moths the earliest come
That twilight loves beneath the moon
Find evenings muffled shades at noon
Or neath some clump of thorns to hide
That overshade some path beside
To sit upon a stulp & spy
The simpering milkmaid tripping bye
Wi smooth voicd humings never dumb
& rosey cheeks in happy bloom
Tannd by rude summers kisses brown
While tedding hay in flowery gown
& red lips never pald wi sighs
& flowing hair & laughing eyes
That oer full many a heart prevaild
& swelling bosom loosly veild
White as the love it harbours there
Unsullied wi the taints of care
Thus fixd wi in my shady screen
To hear & see & not be seen
Or to list the summer wind
Half to idleness inclind
Now trembling oer the yielding grasses
Trembling beside the path she passes
Kissing flowers till playd its fill
Pausing as tird then all is still
Then puffing off in fresh delight
Waving the trees in pleasant sight
& round the shepherds oddling bowers
Singing him asleep for hours
& oer the water crinkling runs
Sparkling tween two glitt[er]ing suns
One in the high blue sky that gleams
Tother its shadow in the streams
Thus will the wind its time employ
Like living thing that feeleth joy
Sweeping oer lake & tree & plain
Pausing & then to play again
What time the evening throws around
Her gloomy shades & soothing sound
The orison faintly tingd wi gold
The shepherds calling at the fold
When soft the clown steals to his home
In fear & doubt of whats to come
& softly parts the wood path leaves
Listning for spirits & for thieves
I love to stretch ones shade between
Lands of sweet blossomd pea & bean
On baulks by tinkling scythes new mown
Were solitude is still alone
Were none but distant sounds invade
& save what my own feet hath made
Unfrequented by beaten paths
To lye upon the withering swaths
Or on a molhill lay my head
& muse upon my scented bed
Till sinking heats resign their strength
& shadows stretch their tallest length
When each tall weed & every thing
Will oer ones lare reflections fling
& spand a shade from beans in flower
As long as noon from tree & bower
Or gazing on the winding flood
Of meadows green in musing mood
To track once plashy paths now dry
Were the stepping stones still lye
By swains in spring oer hollows laid
To aid the steps of milking maid
Ere winters brooks had ceasd to flow
Fed by the hills of melted snow
Round whom were witherd heaps still clings
Of flags & reeds & varied things
The headlong flood as like the wind
Grew weary of & left behind
These still delight a thousand ways
& breath the love of other days
Simple & picturesque & wild
Man has not yet forgot the child
So much to pass them carless bye
But time hath bound a tender tye
Around their memorys such as bends
Ones heart to old rememberd friends
& tho the sunny gleams of praise
Will fade neath clouds of worldly ways
For such hath been & such will be
With more praiseworthy minstrelsy
Then mine yet these shall never tire
My soul to love them or admire
The things that I have lovd so long
Theyre dear howere so mean the song
& let pride scoff at idle lays
& foes give scorn & friends their praise
Let folly simple themes deride
& fashion smile & turn aside
Soon as the wonders toy decays
Smit wi the novelty of praise
Let these decay for they agree
With dreams of hopes mortality
& shadows that are born to dye
Are hardly worth a poets sigh
But that grand source from whom I drew
Joys loves & raptures ever new
Those things oer which my childish eye
Dreamd hopes of immortality
That did inspire my early lays
& wood the witcherys of praise
That source from whence I dard asume
The Minstrels name—shall ever bloom
Fields shall not fade nor skys grow dim
At follys frown or fashions whim
Seasons shall be as they have been
& blossoms bloom & grass be green
When follys scorn or fashions praise
Share the blotchd leaf of other days
When mine shall fade no longer green
In shadows of what once hath been
& many a lay succeeding mine
Shall leave them lasting & divine
& when these live when I am not
Will there be one to haunt each spot
As I have haunted from a boy
Will there be one to seek that joy
That I have sought in lonly hours
& culld wi bees from little flowers
Or will the daiseys golden eye
Unnoticd in my valleys lye
That flower that smiles in field & fen
& seemly loves the haunts of men
Will none its little blooms regard
On bare brown road or pasture sward
Or follow fields red lands or bye
The brink of fountains never dry
Or neath the shade ere spring new born
Hath hung one leaf upon the thorn
That even haunts us round our homes
& by our doors & dunghills blooms
& when mans wayward life is past
Wi love that lingers to the last
It gives to glooms its beautys fair
& seeks our graves & blossoms there
& shoud one soul when mine is fled
Wi the same loves & joys be led
As on he doth his path pursue
To stop & give it notice due
My spirit from the leaves shall sigh
& bless him as he journeys bye
For I do love the little flower
& joy to meet it every hour
Dropt here & there & every where
& lingering with us half the year
Were ere my steps in summer wend
It always like a welcome friend
In some waste grass screed meets my eye
To greet me ere my walk is bye
If weary by its side to rest
& be an hour its summer guest.
Springs & summers almost weary
Ere since my boyish hand dare try
To cull a wreath of poesy
& woo that sun tand beautious maid
The rural muse beneath the shade
Binding free her carless hair
To win her smiling favours there
Tho ere since wi countless pleasures
In unpremedi[t]ated measures
Ive sung of woods & dribbling rills
& pastures speckt wi little hills
& meadows smooth as bowling greens
& fields of grain & many scenes
Were manhoods leisure joys to dwell
& boyhoods rambles lovd so well
I seek me yet those pleasing nooks
By meadows pastures woods & brooks
That were once the pride & praise
Mong the bards of other days
I love them still at early morn
Ere the lark hath left the corn
Ere the earlier swallow pops
From his nest in chimney tops
Ere the neeghbo[r]ing sparrow leaves
Sheltering barn or cottage eves
Chirping off in droves again
To the near fields spindling grain
I still seek quiets joys begun
Rising wi the rising sun
Nor doth noon my steps detain
Tho I shun the open plain
Still the pastures uncut hedge
Fields odd bush & meadows sedge
Still procure me many a bower
Were to sit & spend an hour
& the woodlands leafy rides
Were the darkest gloom abides
Neath the old oaks mossd & grey
Whose shadows seem as old as they
Were man[y] a year hath took to wing
With all the change the seasons bring
Of teaming spring & winters dearth
Since that last morning had its birth
Whose sun coud shine & wind coud breath
Upon the once green ground beneath
That hoary now the sun excludes
& fears the little that intrudes
Picturing nights shadows all the day
As happy when it wears away
& still Ill wi the evening be
When every thing is fair to see
When clouds flock resting in the west
In every hue & color drest
That oft ones pleasant fancys mock
Wi varied shapes of tower & rock
& st[r]etching coasts were sheets of blue
Thro breaks like seas oft glimmer thro
& sungilt mountains intervene
With seeming pleasing vales between
While the suns heat is all declind
& but its shadows live behind
& still I wind the narrow lane
& burst on open fields again
Marking the lark drop from the sky
& qawking crows flop weary bye
& hombound swallows quickly pass
Stooping to brush the dewey grass
& swain wi tools tuckd neath his arm
Hastening to the neighboring farm
While before him runs his dog
Startling lark & nimble frog
As he snuffs the trackd grass oer
Were the hare hath been before
Often eager bustling bye
After one wi fruitless cry
Till its lost in wood or field
Or his strength is glad to yield
Wi lolling tongue & soberd look
Lapping as he leaps the brook
Dropping his tail right mellancholy
Like one awakend from his folly
The swains footsteps he glad retraces
& by his side contented paces
& the merry milking folks
Tinkling wi their swinging yokes
Laughing on their evening way
Making labour light as play
& scenes & things of sight or sound
That summers pencil pictures round
These still are things of love for me
& own unwearied witchery
The willows wavering to the breeze
That checkering shines mid other trees
As tho the mornings misty vail
Yet lingerd in its shadows pale
The wind that gives the thistle seed
Its wings & swims it oer the mead
& floats the feather high in air
From were the partridge lies at lair
Scuffling were high the thistle shields
Mid the red dust of fallow fields
The wirl puff that wi minute flirt
Lifts up the straws & powdery dirt
Along the summer road & heaves
From pingle ground the witherd leaves
Of which last autum made its bed
Rustling neath the shepherds tread
As oft beneath their bowers retreat
He seeks stray lambs that shun the heat
& hurtles high wi playful bound
The haycock tops in meadow ground
Neath which the maid wi bosom bare
Toys wi her sun burnt lover there
The rain bow shining oer the cloud
In arching colors newly proud
Rich glossy stains of watery green
& red & orange flush between
While oer it in a faded hue
Its fainting shadow dims the blue
That in a moments breath decays
& shrinks to nothing ere we gaze
The woodbines that in arbours weaves
The heath brake wi its thousand leaves
& thyme hill neath its shadow green
& featherd fern in woody screen
The bleating flocks & lowing herds
The humming bee & chirping birds
That wend oer hill & vally free
All all have still delights for me
& the softly soothing sound
Were the wind is breathing round
Not in loud imprisond brawls
Mid the citys crowded walls
But were its harsher breath recieves
Softness mid the forest leaves
Swimming over bush & tree
Murmering into melody
Or in the summers lessening noon
To spy the you[n]g half horned moon
In the skyes mirror glimmer pale
Thro daylights half reflecting vale
Ere yet the sun leans half way down
The western slope of days sojourn
Seen plainer as racks vapouring dun
Of odd clouds muffle round the sun
Or mark by turns in shelterd nook
Som distant cottage chimney smoke
Rising like mist in curling shrouds
Till met the sky then melts to clouds
Till I am wearied wi each sight
Then Ill seek the woods brown light
Were beetles brown wi sawning hum
& white wingd moths the earliest come
That twilight loves beneath the moon
Find evenings muffled shades at noon
Or neath some clump of thorns to hide
That overshade some path beside
To sit upon a stulp & spy
The simpering milkmaid tripping bye
Wi smooth voicd humings never dumb
& rosey cheeks in happy bloom
Tannd by rude summers kisses brown
While tedding hay in flowery gown
& red lips never pald wi sighs
& flowing hair & laughing eyes
That oer full many a heart prevaild
& swelling bosom loosly veild
White as the love it harbours there
Unsullied wi the taints of care
Thus fixd wi in my shady screen
To hear & see & not be seen
Or to list the summer wind
Half to idleness inclind
Now trembling oer the yielding grasses
Trembling beside the path she passes
Kissing flowers till playd its fill
Pausing as tird then all is still
Then puffing off in fresh delight
Waving the trees in pleasant sight
& round the shepherds oddling bowers
Singing him asleep for hours
& oer the water crinkling runs
Sparkling tween two glitt[er]ing suns
One in the high blue sky that gleams
Tother its shadow in the streams
Thus will the wind its time employ
Like living thing that feeleth joy
Sweeping oer lake & tree & plain
Pausing & then to play again
What time the evening throws around
Her gloomy shades & soothing sound
The orison faintly tingd wi gold
The shepherds calling at the fold
When soft the clown steals to his home
In fear & doubt of whats to come
& softly parts the wood path leaves
Listning for spirits & for thieves
I love to stretch ones shade between
Lands of sweet blossomd pea & bean
On baulks by tinkling scythes new mown
Were solitude is still alone
Were none but distant sounds invade
& save what my own feet hath made
Unfrequented by beaten paths
To lye upon the withering swaths
Or on a molhill lay my head
& muse upon my scented bed
Till sinking heats resign their strength
& shadows stretch their tallest length
When each tall weed & every thing
Will oer ones lare reflections fling
& spand a shade from beans in flower
As long as noon from tree & bower
Or gazing on the winding flood
Of meadows green in musing mood
To track once plashy paths now dry
Were the stepping stones still lye
By swains in spring oer hollows laid
To aid the steps of milking maid
Ere winters brooks had ceasd to flow
Fed by the hills of melted snow
Round whom were witherd heaps still clings
Of flags & reeds & varied things
The headlong flood as like the wind
Grew weary of & left behind
These still delight a thousand ways
& breath the love of other days
Simple & picturesque & wild
Man has not yet forgot the child
So much to pass them carless bye
But time hath bound a tender tye
Around their memorys such as bends
Ones heart to old rememberd friends
& tho the sunny gleams of praise
Will fade neath clouds of worldly ways
For such hath been & such will be
With more praiseworthy minstrelsy
Then mine yet these shall never tire
My soul to love them or admire
The things that I have lovd so long
Theyre dear howere so mean the song
& let pride scoff at idle lays
& foes give scorn & friends their praise
Let folly simple themes deride
& fashion smile & turn aside
Soon as the wonders toy decays
Smit wi the novelty of praise
Let these decay for they agree
With dreams of hopes mortality
& shadows that are born to dye
Are hardly worth a poets sigh
But that grand source from whom I drew
Joys loves & raptures ever new
Those things oer which my childish eye
Dreamd hopes of immortality
That did inspire my early lays
& wood the witcherys of praise
That source from whence I dard asume
The Minstrels name—shall ever bloom
Fields shall not fade nor skys grow dim
At follys frown or fashions whim
Seasons shall be as they have been
& blossoms bloom & grass be green
When follys scorn or fashions praise
Share the blotchd leaf of other days
When mine shall fade no longer green
In shadows of what once hath been
& many a lay succeeding mine
Shall leave them lasting & divine
& when these live when I am not
Will there be one to haunt each spot
As I have haunted from a boy
Will there be one to seek that joy
That I have sought in lonly hours
& culld wi bees from little flowers
Or will the daiseys golden eye
Unnoticd in my valleys lye
That flower that smiles in field & fen
& seemly loves the haunts of men
Will none its little blooms regard
On bare brown road or pasture sward
Or follow fields red lands or bye
The brink of fountains never dry
Or neath the shade ere spring new born
Hath hung one leaf upon the thorn
That even haunts us round our homes
& by our doors & dunghills blooms
& when mans wayward life is past
Wi love that lingers to the last
It gives to glooms its beautys fair
& seeks our graves & blossoms there
& shoud one soul when mine is fled
Wi the same loves & joys be led
As on he doth his path pursue
To stop & give it notice due
My spirit from the leaves shall sigh
& bless him as he journeys bye
For I do love the little flower
& joy to meet it every hour
Dropt here & there & every where
& lingering with us half the year
Were ere my steps in summer wend
It always like a welcome friend
In some waste grass screed meets my eye
To greet me ere my walk is bye
If weary by its side to rest
& be an hour its summer guest.
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