Since winter is so oppressive today my mind has gone skipping off to green meadows and I thought perhaps a lady poet from Scotland should be quoted here on the blog:
A SHEPHERD'S SONG.
TUNE--"The banks of the Devon."
In summer when flowers in beauty do flourish,
Bespangles the meadows and every lea,
How pleasant's the gay groves, when nature doth nourish,
The green spreading fragrance of every tree.
The hawthorn in blossom, with sweet odour blowing,
The breezes are scented that come from the grove,
Alone on the bank by the clear streams that's blowing,
The small birds sing sweetly the notes of true love.
The Shepherds are feeding their flocks on the mountains,
All nature in beauty, their passion doth move,
For pleasure retires, by the clear crystal fountains,
Along with the small birds, their song is of love.
The dew in the evening doth gild the flowers springing,
Among the fair blossom the breezes do blow;
The twilight repairing, the small birds are singing,
By beautiful rivers that gently do flow.
SUSANNAH HAWKINS 1787-1868
For nearly fifty years, she was known as the "wandering minstrel of the borders." In the earliest part of the 19th century, Susannah Hawkins (1787-1868) traveled house to house selling booklets of her poetry and searched the borders for natives of Dumfries, Scotland.