A REVERIE. Joanna Baillie Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Baillie, Joanna, 1762-1851. Fugitive Verses. By Joanna Baillie, author of “Dramas on the Passions,“ etc. London Edward Moxon, Dover Street. MDCCCXL. 1840 pp. 74-78.

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A REVERIE . BESIDE a spreading elm , from whose high boughs Like knotted tufts the crow's light dwelling shows , Skreened from the northern blast and winter-proof , Snug stands the parson's barn with thatched roof . At chaff-strewed door where in the morning ray The gilded mots in mazy circles play , And sleepy Comrade in the sun is laid , More grateful to the cur than neighb'ring shade : In snowy shirt , unbraced , brown Robin stood , And leant upon his flail in thoughtful mood . His ruddy cheeks that wear their deepest hue , His forehead brown that glist'ning drops bedew , His neck-band loose and hosen rumpled low , A careful lad , nor slack at labour , shew . Nor scraping chickens chirping in the straw , Nor croaking rook o'er-head , nor chattering daw , Loud-breathing cow among the juicy weeds , Nor grunting sow that in the furrow feeds , Nor sudden breeze that stirs the quaking leaves And makes disturbance 'mong the scattered sheaves , Nor floating straw that skims athwart his nose The deeply musing youth may discompose . For Nelly fair , and blythest village maid , Whose tuneful voice beneath the hedge-row shade , At early milking o'er the meadow borne , E'er cheered the ploughman's toil at rising morn ; The neatest maid that e'er in linen gown Bore cream and butter to the market town ; The tightest lass that e'er at wake or fair Footed the ale-house floor with lightsome air , Since Easter last had Robin's heart possest , And many a time disturbed his nightly rest . Full oft returning from the loosened plough , He slacked his pace , and knit his careful brow ; And oft , ere half his thresher's task was o'er , Would muse with arms across at cooling door . His mind thus bent , with downcast eyes he stood , And leant upon his flail in thoughtful mood . His soul o'er many a soft remembrance ran And muttering to himself the youth began . " Ah ! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnished cot ; Who trains the vine that round his window grows , And after setting sun his garden hoes ; Whose wattled pales his own enclosure shield , Who toils not daily in another's field . Where'er he goes , to church or market town , With more respect he and his dog are known , With brisker face at pedlar's booth he stands , And takes each tempting gew-gaw in his hands , And buys at will or ribands , gloves , or beads , And willing partners to the green he leads : And oh ! secure from toils that cumber life , He makes the maid he loves an easy wife . Ah ! Nelly ! canst thou with contented mind Become the help-mate of a labouring hind , And share his lot , whate'er the chances be , Who hath no dower but love to fix on thee ? Yes ; gayest maid may meekest matron prove , And things of little note betoken love . When from the Church thou cam'st at eventide , And I and red-haired Susan by thy side , I pulled the blossoms from the bending tree , And some to Susan gave and some to thee ; Thine were the fairest , and thy smiling eye The difference marked , and guessed the reason why . When on that holiday we rambling strayed , And passed Old Hodge's cottage in the glade ; Neat was the garden dressed , sweet humm'd the bee , I wished the Cot and Nelly made for me ; And well , methought , thy very eyes revealed , The self-same wish within thy breast concealed . When , artful , once I sought my love to tell , And spoke to thee of one who loved thee well , You saw the cheat , and jeering homeward hied , Yet secret pleasure in thy looks I spied . Ay , gayest maid may meekest matron prove , And smaller signs than these betoken love . " Now at a distance on the neighb'ring plain , With creaking wheels slow comes the harvest wain , High on its shaking load a maid appears , And Nelly's voice sounds shrill in Robin's ears . Quick from his hand he throws the cumbrous flail , And leaps with lightsome limbs the enclosing pale . O'er field and fence he scours , and furrow wide , With wakened Comrade barking by his side ; While tracks of trodden grain and tangled hay , And broken hedge-flowers sweet , mark his impetuous way .