 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
33
THE VILLAGE CLOCK.
The morn awakes, in blushes dressed,
The lambs are all at play,
The blackbird quits his dewy nest,
And carols on the spray;
The milkmaid hails the rosy dawn,
The shepherd seeks his fleecy flock,
The woods resound to the hunter's horn,
All roused by the village clock.
Tick! tick!—tick! tick!—tick! tick!
All roused by the village clock.
The lambs are all at play,
The blackbird quits his dewy nest,
And carols on the spray;
The milkmaid hails the rosy dawn,
The shepherd seeks his fleecy flock,
The woods resound to the hunter's horn,
All roused by the village clock.
Tick! tick!—tick! tick!—tick! tick!
All roused by the village clock.
The milky herd their stores resign,
And soon regain the mead,
Where cooling shades and streams combine
To cheer them while they feed.
When evening twilight veils the lawn,
Again the milkmaid trips away,
While woods resound to the distant horn,
At the closing hour of day.
Tick! tick!—tick! tick!—tick! tick!
At the closing hour of day.
And soon regain the mead,
Where cooling shades and streams combine
To cheer them while they feed.
When evening twilight veils the lawn,
Again the milkmaid trips away,
While woods resound to the distant horn,
At the closing hour of day.
Tick! tick!—tick! tick!—tick! tick!
At the closing hour of day.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |