University of Virginia Library

RURAL MORNING

Soon as the twilight thro the distant mist
In silver [h]emmings skirts the purple east
Ere yet the sun unveils his smiles to view
& drys the mornings chilly robes of dew
Young hodge the horse boy with a soodling gait
Slow climbs the stile or opes the creaky gate
With willow switch & halter by his side
Prepard for dobbin whom he means to ride
The only tune he knows still whistling oer
& humming scraps his father sung before
As ‘wantley dragon’ & the ‘magic rose’
The whole of music which his village knows
That wild remembrance in each little town
From mouth to mouth thro ages handles down
Onward he jolls nor can the minstrel throngs
Entice him once to listen to their songs
Nor marks he once a blossom on his way
A sensless lump of animated clay
With weather beaten hat of rusty brown
Stranger to brinks & often times a crown
With slop frock suiting to the ploughmans taste
Its greezy skirtings twisted round his waiste
& hardnd hiloes clenchd with nails around
Clamping defiance oer the stoney ground
The deadly foes of many a blossomd sprout
That luckless happens in each mornings rout
In hobbling speed he roams the pasture round
Till hunted dobbin & the rest are found
Where some from frequent meddlings of his whip
Well knows their foe & often trys to slip
While dobbin tam'd by age & labour stands
To meet all trouble from his brutish hands
& patient leads to gate or knowley brake
The teazing burthen of his foe to take
Who soon as mounted with his switching weals
Puts Dobs best swiftness in his heavy heels
The toltering bustle of a blundering trot
Which whips & cudgels neer increasd a jot
Tho better speed was urged from the clown
& thus he snorts & jossles to the town
& now when toil & summers in its prime
In every vill at mornings earliest time
To early risers many a hodge is seen
& many a dob's heard clattering oer the green
Now straying beams from days unclosing eye
In copper colourd patches flush the sky
& from nights prison strugglingly encroach
To bring the summons of warm days approach
Till slowly mounting oer the ridge of clouds
That yet half shows his face & half enshrouds
Th'unfetterd sun takes his unbounded reign
& wakes all life to noise & toil again
& while his opening mellows oer the scenes
Of wood & field their many mingling greens
Industrys bustling din once more devours
The soothing peace of mornings early hours
The grunt of hogs freed from their nightly dens
& constant cacklings of new laying hens
& ducks & geese that clamorous joys repeat
The splashing comforts of the pond to meet
& chirping sparrows dropping from the eaves
For offal curnels that the poultry leaves
Oft signal calls of danger chittering high
At skulking cats & dogs approaching nigh
& lowing steers that hollow echoes wake
Around the yard their nightly fast to brake
As from each barn the lumping flail rebounds
In mingling consert with the rural sounds
While oer the distant fields more fainter creep
The murmuring bleetings of unfolding sheep
& ploughmens callings that more hoarse proceed
Where tuff industry urges labours speed
& bellowing cows that wait with udders full
The welcome haloo of the maids ‘cum mull’
& rumbling waggons deafen now again
Rousing the dust along the narrow lane
& cracking whips & shepherds hooting crys
From wood land echoes surgeing sharp replys
Hodge in his waggon marks the wonderous tongue
& talks with echoe as he drives along
Still cracks his whip bawls every horses name
& echo still as ready bawls the same
The puzzling mysterey he woud vainly cheat
& fein woud utter what it cant repeat
Till speedless trials proves the doubted elf
As skilld in noise & sounds as hodge himself
& quite convincd with the proofs it gives
The boy drives on & fancys eccho lives
As some wood fiend that fright benighted men
The troubling spirit of a robbers den
& now the blossom of the village view
With airy hat of straw & apron blue
& short sleevd gown that half to guess reveals
By fine turnd arms what beauty it conceals
Whose cheeks health flushes with as sweet a red
As that which strip[e]s the woodbine oer her head
Deeply she blushes on her morning pad
To prove the fondness of some passing lad
Who with a smile that thrills her soul to view
Holds the gate open till she passes through
While turning nodds beck thanks for kindness done
& looks—if looks coud speak proclaims her won
With well scourd buckets on proceeds the maid
& drives her cows to milk beneath the shade
Were scarce a sunbeam to molest her steals
Sweet as the thyme that blossoms were she kneels
& there oft scares the cooing amorous dove
With her own favourd melodys of love
Snugly retird in yet dew laden bowers
The sweetest specimen of rural flowers
Proving red glowing in the morning wind
The powers of health & nature when combind
Last on the road the cow boy carless swings
Leading tamd cattle in their tending strings
With shining tin to keep his dinner warm
Swung at his back or tuckd beneath his arm
Whose sun burnt skin & cheeks chuffd out with fat
Are dy'd as rusty as his napless hat
& others driving loose their herds at will
Are now heard howping up the pasture hill
Peeld sticks they bear of hazel or of ash
The rib markd hides of restless cows to thrash
In sloven garb appears each bawling boy
As fit & suiting to their rude employ
Their shoes worn down by many blundering treads
Oft shows the tennants needing safer sheds
& tatterd cloaths that scarcely screen the back
Which pasture hedges daily put to rack
The pithy bunch of unripe nuts to seek
& crabs sun-reddend with a tempting cheek
& daubd about as if besmeard with blood
Staind with the berries of the brambly wood
That stud the straggling briars as black as jet
Which when their cattle lare they run to get
Or smaller kinds as if beglossd with dew
Shining dim powderd with a downy blue
That on weak tendrils lowly creeping grow
Where choakd in flags & sedges wandering slow
The brook purls simmering its declining tide
Down the crookd boundings of the pasture side
There they to hunt the luscious fruit delight
& dabbling keep within their charges sight
Oft catching prickly struttles on their rout
& miller thumbs & gudgeons driving out
Hid side the archd brig under many a stone
That from its wall rude passing clowns have thrown
& while in peace cows eat & chew their cuds
Moozing cool shelterd neath the skirting woods
To double uses they the hours convert
& turn the toils of labour into sport
Till morns long streaking shadows loose their tails
& cooling winds swoon into futtering gales
& searching sunbeams warm & sultry creep
Warming the teazing inscets from their sleep
& dreaded gadflyes with their drowsey hum
On the burnt wings of mid-day zephers come
Urging each lown to leave his sports in fear
To stop the gadding cows from sturting bye
Droning unwelcome tidings on his ear
That the sweet peace of rural morns gone bye