Page:Poems Cook.djvu/419

I see the lime tree flinging
 Its delicate green arms out;
The fragrant jasmine clinging,
 And the woodbine running about.
The lilac hiding the paling
 With clusters of purple and white;
And the graceful laburnum trailing
 Its tresses of radiant light.
But for me the garlanded bowers
 Have lost their rainbow hue;
I look on the fields and flowers,
 But not as I used to do.

I hear the bird-boy's rattle
 Chime in with the cawing rook;
I hear the low of the cattle,
 And the plash of the rippling brook:
I hear the shepherd singing,
 And the bleat of the sportive lamb;
I hear the loud flail swinging,
 And the barn-door's creaking slam.
I hear the swallows darting
 Like arrows, in chase of the fly;
And the tawny leveret starting,
 At play in the copse just by.
I hear the broad flags quiver,
 Where the wind and tide rush through;
I listen to mill-wheel and river,
 But not as I used to do.

I hear the blackbird telling
 His love-tale to his mate;
And the merry skylark swelling
 The choir at "heaven's gate."

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