 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
247
Sweet Beaumont Side.
1836.
[_]
[Set to a very beautiful air by my late friend Mr. Wood, of Gargrave, and published with accompaniments by J. W. Thirlwall.]
Sweet Beaumont Side, and Beaumont Stream!
Though winds of winter round me blow,
I cannot think, I cannot dream,
With you that it is ever so.
On Flasby Fell the blast may rave,
The drift may whirl on frozen Aire;
No winter binds the Beaumont's wave,
No storm enshrouds a mountain there!
Though winds of winter round me blow,
I cannot think, I cannot dream,
With you that it is ever so.
On Flasby Fell the blast may rave,
The drift may whirl on frozen Aire;
No winter binds the Beaumont's wave,
No storm enshrouds a mountain there!
Sweet Beaumont Side, and Beaumont Stream!
Ye come to me in visions clear,
And ever as ye were, ye seem;
Change cannot touch a scene so dear!
On Howsden heights for ever bloom,
The flowers that lure the mountain bee;
By Beaumont Side the yellow broom
For ever waves—in light—to me!
Ye come to me in visions clear,
And ever as ye were, ye seem;
Change cannot touch a scene so dear!
On Howsden heights for ever bloom,
The flowers that lure the mountain bee;
By Beaumont Side the yellow broom
For ever waves—in light—to me!
Sweet Beaumont Side, and Beaumont Stream!
There is so much of gloom and ill,
That it is soothing thus to deem
Earth bears one spot of sunshine still;
To feel that—while my hopes decline,
And joys from life's bleak waste depart—
One bright illusion—yet—is mine,
One changeless landscape of the heart!
There is so much of gloom and ill,
That it is soothing thus to deem
Earth bears one spot of sunshine still;
To feel that—while my hopes decline,
And joys from life's bleak waste depart—
One bright illusion—yet—is mine,
One changeless landscape of the heart!
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