The trees in Sherwood forest are old and good,--The grass beneath them now is dimly green;
Are they deserted all?
Is no young
With loose-slung bugle met within the wood:
No arrow found, -- foil'd of its antler'd food,--Struck in the oak's rude side? Is there nought seen,
To mark the revelries which there have been,--In the sweet days of merry Robin Hood?
Go there, with Summer, and with evening,--
In the soft shadows like some wandering man,--And thou shalt far amid the forest
The archer men in green, with belt and bow,
Feasting on pheasant, river-fowl, and swan,
With Robin at their head, and Marian.
Sonnet 2. of 3, printed in "The Garden Of Florence" &c., 1821.
