Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Hazeldale: A Poem
Hazeldale.
Oh, who that has an eye to see,
An ear to hear, a tongue to bless,
Can ever undelighted be,
With nature's magic loveliness.
Oh England, old England, the queen of the roses,
Where, where can we go to see lilies as thine,
Where else for the lip which the honey-bee poses,
And cheek where the roses and lilies combine;
What to me now the perfume of lilies of Shinar,
Or Cashmere's vale garden or fruits of Cathay,
Their flow'rs may be fairer, their fruits may be finer,
But welcomer dearer, thy hawthorn and May;
Ye cowslipped meadows, and com dimpled uplands,
Ye heather clad hills, where the grouse is at home,
Ye banks of white vi'lets, and thrush-haunted woodlands,
How sweet again over and by you to roam;
And bluebells and daffodils, old friends of childhood,
And daisies and buttercups, ever a joy,
To the yellow and sere, the infant and manhood;
The pure and the virtuous never can cloy;
And gorse green and armed, and golden and sunny,
he fortress for linnets from magpie and jay,
Above the wild thyme and the store-cups of honey,
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