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John Clare, nature, in English Clear filters

RomanticJohn Clare

Song

One gloomy eve I roamed about Neath Oxey's hazel bowers, While timid hares were darting out, To crop the dewy flowers; And soothing was the scene to me, Right pleased was my soul, My breast was calm as summer's sea When waves forget to roll. But short was even's placid smile, My startled soul to charm, When Nelly lightly skipt the stile, With milk-pail on her arm: One careless look on me she flung, As bright as parting day; And like a hawk from covert sprung, It pounced my peace away.
ContemplativeJohn Clare

Spring's Messengers

Where slanting banks are always with the sun The daisy is in blossom even now; And where warm patches by the hedges run The cottager when coming home from plough Brings home a cowslip root in flower to set. Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met Setting up little tents about the fields In sheltered spots.--Primroses when they get Behind the wood's old roots, where ivy shields Their crimpled, curdled leaves, will shine and hide. Cart ruts and horses' footings scarcely yield A slur for boys, just crizzled and that's all. Frost shoots his needles by the small dyke side, And snow in scarce a feather's seen to fall.
SadJohn Clare

To Anna Three Years Old

My Anna, summer laughs in mirth, And we will of the party be, And leave the crickets in the hearth For green fields' merry minstrelsy. I see thee now with little hand Catch at each object passing bye, The happiest thing in all the land Except the bee and butterfly. And limpid brook that leaps along, Gilt with the summer's burnished gleam, Will stop thy little tale or song To gaze upon its crimping stream. Thou'lt leave my hand with eager speed The new discovered things to see-- The old pond with its water weed And danger-daring willow tree,
DreamyJohn Clare

In Hilly-Wood

How sweet to be thus nestling deep in boughs, Upon an ashen stoven pillowing me; Faintly are heard the ploughmen at their ploughs, But not an eye can find its way to see. The sunbeams scarce molest me with a smile, So thickly the leafy armies gather round; And where they do, the breeze blows cool the while, Their leafy shadows dancing on the ground. Full many a flower, too, wishing to be seen, Perks up its head the hiding grass between,-- In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.
CheerfulJohn Clare

Grasshoppers

Grasshoppers go in many a thumming spring And now to stalks of tasseled sow-grass cling, That shakes and swees awhile, but still keeps straight; While arching oxeye doubles with his weight. Next on the cat-tail-grass with farther bound He springs, that bends until they touch the ground.
RomanticJohn Clare

Song

Mary, leave thy lowly cot When thy thickest jobs are done; When thy friends will miss thee not, Mary, to the pastures run. Where we met the other night Neath the bush upon the plain, Be it dark or be it light, Ye may guess we'll meet again. Should ye go or should ye not, Never shilly-shally, dear. Leave your work and leave your cot, Nothing need ye doubt or fear: Fools may tell ye lies in spite, Calling me a roving swain; Think what passed the other night-- I'll be bound ye'll meet again.

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