I Found The Poems In The Fields

While Snow The Window-panes Bedim, The Fire Curls Up A Sunny Charm, Where, Creaming O'er The Pitcher's Rim, The Flowering Ale Is Set To Warm; Mirth, Full Of Joy As Summer Bees, Sits There, Its Pleasures To Impart, And Children, 'tween Their Parent's Knees, Sing Scraps Of Carols O'er By Heart.

Into The Nothingness Of Scorn And Noise, Into The Living Sea Of Waking Dreams, Where There Is Neither Sense Of Life Or Joys, But The Vast Shipwreck Of My Life's Esteems; And E'en The Dearest--that I Love The Best-- Are Strange--nay, Rather Stranger Than The Rest.

Now Summer Is In Flower And Natures Hum Is Never Silent Round Her Sultry Bloom Insects As Small As Dust Are Never Done Wi' Glittering Dance And Reeling In The Sun And Green Wood Fly And Blossom Haunting Bee Are Never Weary Of Their Melody Round Field Hedge Now Flowers In Full Glory Twine Large Bindweed Bells Wild Hop And Streakd Woodbine That Lift Athirst Their Slender Throated Flowers Agape For Dew Falls And For Honey Showers These Round Each Bush In Sweet Disorder Run And Spread Their Wild Hues To The Sultry Sun.

How Oft A Summer Shower Has Started Me; To Seek The Shelter Of A Hollow Tree

He Could Not Die When The Trees Were Green, For He Loved The Time Too Well.