John Clare takes a loving look at a maple tree and the life around it. With painterly precision, he notes the green tassel flowers that turn to red seeds, the scalloped yellowish-green leaves, and the bark ribbed like corduroy that becomes smoother higher up. Around the trunk, white hemlock with umbrella-like blooms towers upward, dark moss spreads richly, and orchids and bluebells crowd under the leaves. The speaker adores seeing them ‘gemmed with morning hours’—jeweled with dew in the early light. The whole poem hums with quiet affection for a solitary green corner. The mood is calm, personal, and tenderly attentive, as if the maple’s ‘sweet clothing’ is a private delight. Clare finds rapture in stillness, turning an ordinary patch of wildness into something intimate and almost sacred. His patient attention makes you feel you are standing right there, breathing in the damp, green air and profound quiet.
The Maple Tree — Summary
The maple with its tassel flowers of green, That turns to red a staghorn-shaped seed, Just spreading out its scolloped leaves is seen, Of yellowish hue, yet beautifully green; Bark ribbed like corderoy in seamy screed, That farther up the stem is smoother seen, Where the white hemlock with white umbel flowers Up each spread stoven to the branches towers; And moss around the stoven spreads, dark green, And blotched leaved orchis, and the blue bell flowers; Thickly they grow and neath the leaves are seen; I love to see them gemmed with morning hours, I love the lone green places where they be, And the sweet clothing of the maple tree.