Sonnets at the English Lakes by Hardwicke D. Rawnsley ... Second Edition |
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Sonnets at the English Lakes | ||
43
XLIII. DOVENEST.
They tell how southern nightingales most loveTo haunt the leafy verges of the wood,
And there with throbbing harmony to flood
The drowsy pastures where the cattle rove.
Glad one, misnamed! the border of this grove,
With its green Spruces where the pigeons brood,
Once bade thee—of thine own time's minstrelhood
The queen—to share thine empire with the dove:
Soft-voiced as they, thy notes to field and pen
Went up the pastures, wandered on the lake,
And, like the nightingales, thou still would'st hide:
But what of joy the coppice held inside
Thy song so plainly told, that for its sake
This wood was dear to simple labouring men.
Sonnets at the English Lakes | ||