A COTTAGER leaned whispering by her hives, Telling the bees some news, as they lit down, And entered one by one their waxen town. Larks passioning hung o'er their brooding wives, And all the sunny hills where heather thrives Lay satisfied with peace. A stately crown Of trees enringed the upper headland brown, And reedy pools, wherein the moor-hen dives, Glittered and gleamed. A resting-place for light, They that were bred here love it; but they say, We shall not have it long; in three years' time A hundred pits will cast out fires by night, Down yon still glen their smoke shall trail its way, And the white ash lie thick in lieu of rime." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIRTY OLD MAN by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 6. TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQ., WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU by MARK AKENSIDE MONCH AND JUNGFRAU by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG THE COMPLAINT OF FANCY by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS A DISMISSAL by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE INN ALBUM: PART 2 by ROBERT BROWNING NORTH WIND, SOUTH WIND by MARY BISHOP BULLARD THE TRAGEDY OF CHARLES, DUKE OF BYRON by GEORGE CHAPMAN (1559-1634) |