 | Poems |  |
487
A LEAF FROM MY SKETCH-BOOK.
'Tis a pleasant spot of greenness,
Worth a poet's best of praises;
Well the sunlight loves to linger
In that grassy haunt of daisies.
Worth a poet's best of praises;
Well the sunlight loves to linger
In that grassy haunt of daisies.
Well I mind its trembling poplars,
Well, the white road that, anigh it,
Winding upward from the landscape,
Led my wandering footsteps by it.
Well, the white road that, anigh it,
Winding upward from the landscape,
Led my wandering footsteps by it.
In the grey and stony city,
Oft before me fancy raises,
Soft in golden mists of morning,
Yet again that home of daisies.
Oft before me fancy raises,
Soft in golden mists of morning,
Yet again that home of daisies.
Up, its cottage smoke goes curling,
'Gainst the green still elms around it,
Where, across its white-thorn hedges,
Once again my eye has found it.
'Gainst the green still elms around it,
Where, across its white-thorn hedges,
Once again my eye has found it.
Up the wood that leafs the hill-side,
Yet again my fancy gazes,
Wanders over all the far view
Stretched beneath that haunt of daisies.
Yet again my fancy gazes,
Wanders over all the far view
Stretched beneath that haunt of daisies.
Over pasture, field, and river,
City towers and village spires,
Travels on my eye, delighted,
With a joy that never tires.
City towers and village spires,
Travels on my eye, delighted,
With a joy that never tires.
But with pleasure, all surpassing,
Smile and jest and kindly phrases,
Do I pass, as on that morning,
By that grassy haunt of daisies.
Smile and jest and kindly phrases,
Do I pass, as on that morning,
By that grassy haunt of daisies.
488
Leaning o'er the stile, I see her
As she met my passing greeting,
Fresh and flush'd as the hedge-roses
Round the green spot of our meeting.
As she met my passing greeting,
Fresh and flush'd as the hedge-roses
Round the green spot of our meeting.
With a laugh we met and parted;
Ah! those few sweet country phrases,
Oh! how often do I hear them,
Lingering past that haunt of daisies!
Ah! those few sweet country phrases,
Oh! how often do I hear them,
Lingering past that haunt of daisies!
| Poems | |