The Farmer's Boy: A Rural Poem

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P. Wogan, 1803 - 129 páginas
 

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Página 22 - Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong, The green turf trembling as they bound along ; Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb, Where every molehill is a bed of thyme ; There panting stop ; yet scarcely can refrain ; A bird, a leaf, will set them off again : Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow, Scattering the wild-briar roses into snow, Their little limbs increasing efforts try, Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly.
Página 47 - The widening distance which I daily see, Has Wealth done this? - then Wealth's a foe to me; Foe to our rights ; that leaves a powerful few The paths of emulation to pursue: For emulation stoops to us no more: The hope of humble industry is o'er; The blameless hope, the cheering sweet presage Of future comforts for declining age.
Página 46 - tis the peasant's curse, That hourly makes his wretched station worse; Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan That rank to rank cements, as man to man...
Página 27 - THE FARMER'S life displays in every part A moral lesson to the sensual heart. Though in the lap of Plenty, thoughtful still, He looks beyond the present good or ill ; Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth, From changeful seasons, or capricious earth, But views the future with the present hours, And looks for failures as he looks for showers ; For casual as for certain want prepares...
Página 21 - Or gazed in merry clusters by your side ? Ye who can smile, to wisdom no disgrace, At the arch meaning of a kitten's face : If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth ; In shades like these pursue your fav'rite joy, 'Midst Nature's revels, sports that never cloy.
Página 83 - Another Spring !" his heart exulting cries ; " Another Year ! with promised blessings rise !— Eternal Power! from whom those blessings flow, Teach me still more to wonder, more to know : Seed-time and Harvest let me see again ; Wander the leaf-strewn wood, the frozen plain: Let the first flower, corn-waving field, plain, tree,' Here round my home, still lift my soul to thee ; And let me ever, midst thy bounties, raise An humble note of thankfulness and praise !" (1) These two lines ran in the MS.:—...
Página 35 - Hark ! where the sweeping scythe now rips along Each sturdy Mower, emulous and strong, Whose writhing form meridian heat defies, Bends o'er his work, and every sinew tries ; Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet, But spares the rising clover, short and sweet.
Página 29 - He comes, but comes in vain, Dry dust beneath the bubbling surface lurks And mocks his pains the more, the more he works ; Still, midst huge clods, he plunges on forlorn, That laugh his harrows and the shower to scorn. E'en thus the living clod, the stubborn fool...
Página 74 - In part these nightly terrors to dispel, Giles, ere he sleeps, his little flock must tell. From the fireside with many a shrug he hies, Glad if the full-orb'd moon salute his eyes, And through th' unbroken stillness of the night Shed on his path her beams of cheering light.
Página 13 - Reluctance marks their steps, sedate and slow ; The right of conquest all the law they know ; The strong press on, the weak by turns succeed, And one superior always takes the lead ; Is ever foremost, wheresoe'er they stray ; Allow'd precedence, undisputed sway ; With jealous pride her station is maintain'd, For many a broil that post of honour gain'd.

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