Poems — Patty

PATTY

Ye swampy falls of pasture ground, And rushy spreading greens;

Ye rising swells in brambles bound, And freedom’s wilder’d scenes;

I’ve trod ye oft, and love ye dear, And kind was fate to let me;

On you I found my all, for here ’Twas first my Patty met me.

Flow on, thou gently plashing stream, O’er weed-beds wild and rank;

Delighted I’ve enjoy’d my dream Upon thy mossy bank: Bemoistening many a weedy stem, I’ve watched thee wind so clearly;

And on thy bank I found the gem That makes me love thee dearly.

Thou wilderness, so rudely gay;

Oft as I seek thy plain, Oft as I wend my steps away, And meet my joys again, And brush the weaving branches by Of briars and thorns so matty;

So oft Reflection warms a sigh,-- Here first I meet my Patty.