Rural Records, Or, Glimpses of Village Life |
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anon antique autumn bachelor beauty beneath bird boughs branchy broad green Broad Lea brother casements cham cheek cheerful Chequers chimneys Christmas church cloud corbels cottage countenance dance dark desio Edward Summers elder eyes face fancy father's favourite festival flowers Frank Harper Friary gathered gentle glittering glow gossips grace green green lanes grey happy hath haunted heart heaven host hour Joshua Kate lane leafy light look Lucy maiden manorial melancholy memory merrie England merry mind mingled mirth morning mother murmur neighbouring never night past path pause peculiar perhaps Petrarch pleasant porch purple violets racter rence ring roof rose-tree round Roundheads Royal Oak ruddy rustic season seemed shadow shining sister sleep soft solemn solitary song sparkling spring summer sunken lane sunshine sward sweet swelling teeming Thundridge venerable village voice walls wandering Wayfaring Tree weary whisper widow wind withal Woodside young youth
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Page 145 - and all its twined flowers ; And sometimes, like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or by a cider press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, where are they ? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds
Page 145 - dying day, And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue ; . Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking, as the light wind lives or dies ; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft, The red-breast whistles from a garden croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies."—KEATS.
Page 95 - Innocence hath privilege in her To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes ; And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, Not less if unattended and alone Than when both young and old sit gathered round, And take delight in its activity, Even so this happy creature of herself Is
Page 152 - Of all her passed paines : one loving houre For many yeares of sorrow can dispence, A dram of sweete is worth a pound of soure. She has forgott how many a woeful stoure For him she late endur'd : she speakes no more Of past: true is, that true love hath no powre To looken
Page 74 - In which were okes great, straight as a line, Under the which the grasse, so fresh of hew, Was newly sprong, and an eight foot or nine Every tree well fro' his fellow grew, With branches brode, laden with leves new, That sprongen out ayen the sunne-shene, Some very red, and some a glad light grene.
Page 96 - solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's Forth startled from the fern where she lay couch'd ; Unthought of, unexpected as the stir Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow flowers.
Page 145 - oft amid thy store ? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee, sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swarth and all its twined flowers ; And sometimes, like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or by a
Page 166 - Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard, Muttons, and fatted beeves, and bacon swine, Herons and bitterns, peacock, swan and bustard, Teal, mallards, pigeons, widgeons, and in fine, Plum-puddings, pancakes, apple-pies and custard, With mead, and ale, and cyder of our own ; For porter, punch, and negus were not known,
Page 95 - as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, Not less if unattended and alone Than when both young and old sit gathered round, And take delight in its activity, Even so this happy creature of herself Is all sufficient; solitude to her Is blithe society, who fills the air With gladness and involuntary songs. Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's
Page 44 - down the stream : the willow leaves, With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forget the lifting winds; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, Bears on its bosom, quietly give way, And lean