Sonnet I On Robin Hood

Robin the outlaw! Is there not a mass

Of freedom in the name? -- It tells the story

Of clenched oaks, with branches bow'd and hoary,

Leaning in aged beauty o'er the grass;--

Of dazed smile on cheek of border lass

Listening 'gainst some old gate at his strange glory:

And of the dappled stag, struck down and gory,

Lying with nostril wide in green morass.

It tells a tale of forest days -- of times

That would have been most precious unto thee:

Days of undying pastoral liberty:--

Sweeter than music old of abbey chimes--

Sweet as the virtue of Shakespearian rhymes--

Days, shadowy with the magic green-wood tree!

Sonnet I. of 3, printed in "The Garden Of Florence" &c., 1821.