Poems (Nealds)/Written in White-house Wood, the favourite walk of the Authoress
WRITTEN IN WHITE-HOUSE WOOD,THE FAVOURITE WALK OF THE AUTHOR.
Bright glows the west, the setting sun
Now softly sinks behind the trees,
The busy toil of day is done,
And peasants court the sweets of ease.
Now softly sinks behind the trees,
The busy toil of day is done,
And peasants court the sweets of ease.
I wander now in pensive mood,
In solitude an hour to spend,
In the dark mazes of the wood,
And think upon my absent friend.
In solitude an hour to spend,
In the dark mazes of the wood,
And think upon my absent friend.
There Spring puts forth her first-born flow'rs,
The vi'let and the primrose fair,
The blue-bell there her odour pours,
And ev'ry early flow'r is there.
The vi'let and the primrose fair,
The blue-bell there her odour pours,
And ev'ry early flow'r is there.
Beneath my favorite tree reclin'd,
I listen to the thrushes' song,
As gently blows the western wind,
The lovely verdant boughs among.
I listen to the thrushes' song,
As gently blows the western wind,
The lovely verdant boughs among.
The partridge now retires to rest,
Within the copse's thickest shades;
The ring-doves seek their happy nest,
No noisy hum the calm invades.
Within the copse's thickest shades;
The ring-doves seek their happy nest,
No noisy hum the calm invades.
Mild Hesper sheds her beams so pale,
To light the lev'ret on her way,
As playful sporting thro' the vale,
She hails the hour of closing day.
To light the lev'ret on her way,
As playful sporting thro' the vale,
She hails the hour of closing day.
Again I gaze enraptur'd round
On the sweet scene before my view,
And rising from the mossy ground,
To friendship's haunts I bid adieu.
On the sweet scene before my view,
And rising from the mossy ground,
To friendship's haunts I bid adieu.