A Field
A gleaming shell upon the shore,
The sea, so calm, unheard doth pour;
The chaplet of the earth renews,
So fledgling thrushes burst through hue!
The clouds on azure mirrors lie;
The breezes steep; the naked sky
Spread wide with morning, silent clear,
While warblers spin, and love is here!
The reapers tread, and quickly round,
The wheat doth sway, a golden pound;
The fragrant dread of rose-entide
In nature, soft, doth rest to hide!
- William Hazlitt