T 



But poor thou art, and known to be 

 Even as moneyless as he. 

 Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss 

 From those mellifluous lips of his ; 

 Then never take a second on, 

 To spoil the first impression, 



HERRICK. 



BEANS IN BLOSSOM 



HE south-west wind ! how pleasant in the face 

 It breathes ! while; sauntering in a musing pace, 

 I roam these new ploughed fields ; or by the side 

 Of this old wood, where happy birds abide. 

 And the rich blackbird through his golden bill. 

 Utters wild music when the rest are still. 

 Luscious the scent comes of the blossomed bean, 

 As o'er the path in rich disorder lean 

 Its stalks ; whence bees, in busy rows and toils. 

 Load home luxuriantly their yellow spoils. 

 The herd-cows toss the molehills in their play ; 

 And often stand the stranger's steps at bay. 

 Mid clover blossoms red and tawny white. 

 Strong scented with the summer's warm delight. 



JOHN CLARE. 



T 



THE WOOD-SPURGE 



HE wind flapped loose, the wind was still. 

 Shaken out dead from tree and hill : 

 I had walked on at the wind's will, — 

 I sat now, for the wind was still. 



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