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Summer moods
I love at eventide to walk alone
Down narrow lanes oerhung with dewy thorn,
where for the long grass underneath, the snail
jet black creeps out and sprouts his timid horn.
I love to muse oer meadows newly mown
Where withering grass perfumes the sultry air,
Where bees search round with sad and weary drone
In vain for flowers that bloomed but newly there,
While in the juicy crn the hidden quail
Cries wet my foot and, hid as thoughts unborn.
The fairylike and seldom-seen landrail
Ulters craik craik like voices underground,
Right glad to meet the evenings dewy veil
And see the light into glooms around.
The Ants
What wonder strikes the curious while he views
The black ants city by a rotten tree
Or woodland bank in ignorance we muse,
Pausing amazed, we know not what we seeSuch government and order there to be;
Some looking on and urging some to toil.
Dragging their loads of bent stalks slavishly
And whats more wonderful big loads that foil
One ant or two to carry quickly, then
A swarm flocks round to help their fellow men.
Surely they speak a language whisperingly
Too fine for us to hear, and sure their ways
Prove they have kings and laws and them to be
Deformed remnants of the fairy days.
I Am
I am yet what I am, none cares or knows;
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:I am the self-consumer of my woes; They rise and vanish in oblivions host,
Like shadows in loves frenzied stifled throes;And yet I am, and live like vapours tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,-