Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . 3 IV. THE LITTLE ANGLERS. Swiftly sped the summer-day,By the becks brown shallows, Swiftly in their whirling playFlashed the summer swallows, Dipping wings and then away,In and out the golden sallows. Fragrant bean and clover flowersThe warm winds seemed to winnow, For perfume of the golden hoursWhen Ave fished the minnow. Darker now the summer skies. Summer hours seem shorter,Summer breezes seem to rise From a chillier quarter,As for goldfish we throw flies, Greybeards in more troubled water. Hemlock rank and thistle hoar,The cold winds seem to
Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . 3 IV. THE LITTLE ANGLERS. Swiftly sped the summer-day,By the becks brown shallows, Swiftly in their whirling playFlashed the summer swallows, Dipping wings and then away,In and out the golden sallows. Fragrant bean and clover flowersThe warm winds seemed to winnow, For perfume of the golden hoursWhen Ave fished the minnow. Darker now the summer skies. Summer hours seem shorter,Summer breezes seem to rise From a chillier quarter,As for goldfish we throw flies, Greybeards in more troubled water. Hemlock rank and thistle hoar,The cold winds seem to winnow, And bear no more the scent they boreWhen we fished the 4 i V. THE GLEANERS AT THE STILE. By paths that ran through spiked sheaves, Or stubbles russet green,Grirt with their belt of living leaves, I strolled to sketch the scene. Grold framed in emerald! hedge-row bound, New-reaped or wheat-clad square,And purple fallow, to the round Of woodland-distance fair. Eoot-ways that wound through corn-flowers blue, lied poppies, nodding wheat,To brakes, where, light in shadow, grew The stately meadow-sweet. A group of gleaners came in sight, Ilesting about a stile;Unseen, I marked their dark and light, They talking free the while. Their talk ran on their harvest-spoil, The bushels gleaned and shelled;Each boasting how her childish toil The household store had swelled. The meadow-sweet breathed fragrantly, The elms swung overhead,But what of beauty spoke to me, To them spoke, first, of bread. Thenceforth the sweetness of the scene Methought, more solemn grew,With threads of human toil and teen Enwoven through and through.
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Keywords: ., bookauthordalzielgeorge18151902, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860
