WILLIAM Dewy, Tranter Reuben, Farmer Ledlow late at plough,        Robert's kin, and John's, and Ned's,     And the Squire, and Lady Susan, lie in Mellstock churchyard now!     "Gone," I call them, gone for good, that group of local hearts and     heads;        Yet at mothy curfew-tide,     And at midnight when the noon-heat breathes it back from walls and     leads,     They've a way of whispering to me—fellow-wight who yet abide—        In the muted, measured note     Of a

Addressed To A Young Lady FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove; Where...

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One...

Lo, an English mansion founded In the elder James's reign, Quaint and stately, and surrounded With a pastoral domain. With well-timber'd lawn and gardens And with many a pleasant mead, Skirted by the lofty coverts Where the hare and pheasant feed. Flank'd it is with goodly stables, Shelter'd by coeval trees So it lifts its honest gables Toward the distant German seas Where it once discern'd the smoke Of old sea-battles far away : Saw victorious Nelson's topmasts Anchoring in