 | Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow |  |
76
SONNET.
['Tis Ev'ning, and the cawing birds in air]
'Tis Ev'ning, and the cawing birds in airAssemble o'er the dark, and rooky wood;
The sweet-breath'd kine now homeward make repair,
And yield unto the pail their balmy food:
Beneath the moon, the pale and misty moon,
The huntsman to our blazing hearth returns,
And, having hous'd his dogs, with tankards boon,
And easy mirth, the coming night discerns:
The robin by my humble casement sings,
And tells me the sweet Autumn now is near;
Come then, my friends, and, with the bliss of kings,
Partake with me our plain and welcome cheer;
Pure food, rich cups, and, with light-voiced song,
Sweet tales, that speed the Winter's night along.
| Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow | |