First line: ‘T’is not the season of the year’. The title and ‘By Miss – – – – – –’ are written on f. 83v. The verses are headed ‘By – – – – –’.
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Transcript
Written in the | Winter time | By Miss – – – – – – – {1}
By – – – – – –
T’is not the season of the year,
To write romantic Strains,
For now the Shepherds disappear,
And all the village Swains.
The poor within their Cots retire,
To shelter from the cold;
And crouding round their little fire,
Lament the age of Gold.
In Sympathy the flocks around,
Stand shivering as they bleat;
And lambs forget to skip and bound,
While chill’d with rain & Sleet.
The mountains thus o’erspead with snow,
No pleasing views display,
The little valleys here below,
Scarce feel the Sunbeam’s ray.
The herbage now is turn’d brown,
The trees no longer green;
Nature on all things seems to frown,
And quits the Sylvan Scene!
But when the cheerful Spring draws near,
The shrubs will then revive,
The flowers their beauteous heads will rear,
And bees begin their Hive.
The primrose will e’er long display,
On every bank its head,
The humble Daisy will each day,
Arise beneath your tread.
And Tulips next in gay attire
Their gaudy leaves display,
We all the varied hue admire,
Tho’ they no scent convey.
The purple violets then are seen,
And breath their sweets around;
With butterCups adorn the green,
And form poetic Ground.
The villagers their tasks resume,
And cultivate the soil;
The gentler sex attend the Loom
A less laborious toil,
And all the labours of the day
Are with the dawn begun,
The work beguiles the time away,
Untill the setting Sun.
When from the fields the joyous swains
With great delight repair;
Forgetting, as they leavees the plains,
All sorrow, and all Care.
The wives, expecting their return,
Prepare the homely bread;
The Cheese, and produce of the Churn
Are on, the table spread.
And now the slight repast prepar’d
They sll sit down with joy,
The youthful Couples then are pair’d
And dance the Hour’s employ.
While the fond parents with delight
Recal their former days;
Relating stories ’till the night
Her sable wing displays.
Then each returning to their Cot,
Enjoy a peaceful rest,
And all contented with their lot,
Are by contentment blest.
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The indentation of the lines has not been reproduced.
{1} These lines are written in a different hand on the page facing that on which the verses begin.
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