John Bradford Biography

There may be lands more fair than mine,
With skies of cloudless blue,
Where morning's dewdrops brighter shine
On flowers of deeper hue,
...

On a rough winter's night, when the stormy winds blew,
'Till the tiles from the top of my lone dwelling flew.
And against my frail lattice came pouring amain,
The big, hurrying drops of the storm-driven rain,
...

A little while, and I shall be
Fated to dwell afar from thee,
Our wild wood haunts no more to see.
My Clare.
...

Oh ! do not doubt, my gentle Clare,
The love of this fond heart ;
For could I gaze on forms more fair,
From thee 'twould ne'er depart.
...

THE QUESTION.

DEAR to the bright cerulean sky
Unstirr'd the silvery cloudlets lie ;
...