Simon Thorn Verse

Old Simon Thorn was a Devonian, bred and

born,

And Work’d in his master’s fields all day from early

morn;

A real good man was Simon, truthful in deed and

word,

And through Life’s many sorrows, as blithesome as a

bird.

My lot in this world, he said, I ne’er consider

hard,

For I’ve love of wife and child, and master’s warm

regard;

He treats me not, as some do, like a hack or pig or

dog,

But as a man, with heart and head – not as stone or

log.

A cottage snug I have, and a pleasant garden

plot –

You may travel far and wide ere you find a fairer

spot;

The seasons come and go, I bless them ev’ry

one,

Welcoming each, yet sorry when either’s course is

run.

Tis bliss to see the first lamb sporting on the

green,

Ere yet in hedge-rows bare, pale primroses are

seen;

My joyful heart beats fast when bee is on the

wing –

And I hear the merry thrush and piping blackbird

sing.

When Spring ripens into Summer, and brightest flow’rs bloom,

When the sky is deepest blue, and earth lies not in

gloom,

I feel Heaven is not far off – that God is vey

near –

And in my heart upspringeth pure joy, unmix’d with

fear.

When Autumn brings her full store of fruit and

golden grain,

With gratitude I list to the sickle and the

Wain –

And song of merry harvesters, binding up the

sheaves,

Ere the grand old trees have shed their many

tinted leaves.

And in the hush of Evening, when birds are

singing lays,

I sit beneath my cottage eaves, and think of

other days;

And read the Holy Bible – the Sermon on the

Mount –

Which seems as clear as water from any crystal

fount.

I care not much for churches, or sermons by

the priest,

For they confuse me often – Christ’s Sermon not

the least –

At night I say the Lord’s Prayer, the best that

e’er was said,

And dread the darkest grave, sir, as little as my

bed.

E TOZER – 1873