The Village Boy

Free from the cottage corner, see how wild
The village boy along the pasture hies,
With every smell, and sound, and sight beguiled,
That round the prospect meets his wondering eyes;
Now stooping eager for the cowslip-pips,
As though he'd get them all; now tired of these,
Across the flaggy brook he eager leaps
For some new flower his happy rapture sees;
Now tearing 'mid the bushes on his knees,
On woodland banks, for blue bell-flowers he creeps;
And now, while looking up among the trees,
He spies a nest, and down he throws his flowers,
And up he climbs with new-fed extacies —
The happiest object in the summer hours.