John Clare’s speaker is in prison, and the poem is a stream of goodbyes to the rural world he’s been torn from. He longs for very specific, loved places: a bushy clump by the river, a weedy nook hemmed by water, the miller’s brook, and, most tenderly, the miller’s three bonny daughters. As a “thrall” who sees nothing but the sky, he feels the green fields and birdsong have been deliberately shut out—blackbirds and thrushes no longer build anywhere near him. The mood is one of quiet, aching grief, sharpened by small, vivid memories like the burdock near the willow or the moorcock dashing under the waves. The repeated “farewell” pulses through the lines like a slow, sorrowful drum, while the homely images make the loss feel intimate and real. The speaker is holding on to what he can no longer touch, and the plain, musical language carries a sense of both tenderness and permanent distance.
Farewell — Summary
Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river And the flags where the butter-bump hides in for ever; Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed in by waters; Farewell to the miller's brook and his three bonny daughters; Farewell to them all while in prison I lie-- In the prison a thrall sees nought but the sky.
Shut out are the green fields and birds in the bushes; In the prison yard nothing builds, blackbirds or thrushes, Farewell to the old mill and dash of the waters, To the miller and, dearer still, to his three bonny daughters.
In the nook, the large burdock grows near the green willow; In the flood, round the moorcock dashes under the billow; To the old mill farewell, to the lock, pens, and waters, To the miller himsel', and his three bonny daughters.