British Georgics. January (James Grahame Poems)
The labours of the plough, the various toilsThat, still returning with the changeful year,Demand the husbandman's and cottar's care;The joys ...
The labours of the plough, the various toilsThat, still returning with the changeful year,Demand the husbandman's and cottar's care;The joys ...
Beneath the fervour of the noon-tide beamAll Nature's works in placid stillness pause,--Save man, and his joint labourer the horse,The ...
The long-piled mountain-snows at last dissolve,Bursting the roaring river's brittle bonds.Ponderous the fragments down the cataract shoot,And, buried in the ...
Fair shines the sun, but with a meekened smileRegretful, on the variegated woodsAnd glittering streams, where floats the hazel spray,The ...
No more at dewy dawn, or setting sun,The blackbird's song floats mellow down the dale;Mute is the lark, or soars ...
Loud raves the blast, and, smell, the sleety showersDrive over hill and dale with hurrying sweep.The leafless boughs all to ...
Clear is the sky, and temperate the air,That, scarcely stirring, wafts, with gentlest breath,The gossamer light glittering in the sun.And ...
Intense the viewless flood of heat descendsOn hill, and dale, and wood, and tangled brake,Where, to the chirping grasshopper, the ...
While wind and rain drive through the half-stripped trees,Fanners and flails go merrily in the barn.Each brook and river sweeps ...
Sweet month! thy locks with bursting buds begemmed,With opening hyacinths and hawthorn flowers,Fair still thou art, though showers bedim thine ...
Through boughs still leafless, or through foliage thin,The sloping primrose-bed lies fair exposed,Begemmed with simple flowers, gladdening the sight.Hail! month ...
Hark! the whetstone raspsAlong the mower's scythe; for now's the timeTo reap the grassy mead,—-ere yet the beeInto the purple ...
Six days the heavenly host, in circle vast,Like that untouching cincture which enzonesThe globe of Saturn, compass'd wide this orb,And ...
Twice has the sun commenced his annual round,Since first thy footsteps totter'd o'er the ground,Since first thy tongue was tuned ...
From sunward rocks the icicle's faint drop,By lonely river side, is heard, at times,To break the silence deep; for now ...
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