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Love Lives Beyond The Tomb

Love lives beyondThe tomb, the earth, which fades like dew! I love the fond,The faithful, and the true. Love lives in sleep,The happiness of healthy dreams: Eve's dews may weep,But love delightful seems. Tis seen in flowers,And in the morning's pearly dew; In earth's green hours,And in the heaven's eternal blue. Tis heard in SpringWhen light and sunbeams, warm and kind, On angel's wingBring love and music to the mind. And where is voice,So young, so beautiful, and sweet As Nature's choice,Where Spring and lovers meet? Love lives beyondThe tomb, the... Poems - Post by : raysref - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3280

The Dying Child

He could not die when trees were green, For he loved the time too well.His little hands, when flowers were seen, Were held for the bluebell, As he was carried oer the green.His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee; He knew those children of the Spring:When he was well and on the lea He held one in his hands to sing, Which filled his heart with glee.Infants, the children of the Spring! How can an infant dieWhen butterflies are on the wing, Green grass, and such a sky?... Poems - Post by : simplyeasier - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 2943

Graves Of Infants

Infant' graves are steps of angels Earth's brightest gems of innocence repose. God is their parent, and they need no tear; He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes, A bud their lifetime and a flower their close. Their spirits are an Iris of the skies, Needing no prayers; a sunset's happy close. Gone are the bright rays of their soft blue eyes;Flowers weep in dew-drops oer them, and the... Poems - Post by : EXNETSYS - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3615

Little Trotty Wagtail

Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain,And tittering, tottering sideways he neer got straight again,He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to get a fly,And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry.Little trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud,And left his little footmarks, trample where he would.He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his tail,And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail.Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about,And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out;Your home is nigh at hand, and in the warm pig-stye,So, little Master Wagtail, I'll... Poems - Post by : Mark_Austin - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3884

Clock-a-clay

In the cowslip pips I lie,Hidden from the buzzing fly,While green grass beneath me lies,Pearled with dew like fishes' eyes,Here I lie, a clock-a-clay,Waiting for the time of day.While the forest quakes surprise,And the wild wind sobs and sighs,My home rocks as like to fall,On its pillar green and tall;When the pattering rain drives byClock-a-clay keeps warm and dry.Day by day and night by night,All the week I hide from sigh;In the cowslip pips I lie,In rain and dew still warm and dry;Day and night, and night and day,Red, black-spotted clock-a-clay.My home shakes in wind and showers,Pale green pillar topped with... Poems - Post by : Joe_Tilak - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 1783

Early Spring

The Spring is come, and Spring flowers coming too, The crocus, patty kay, the rich hearts' ease;The polyanthus peeps with blebs of dew, And daisy flowers; the buds swell on the trees; While oer the odd flowers swim grandfather beesIn the old homestead rests the cottage cow; The dogs sit on their haunches near the pail,The least one to the stranger growls "bow wow," Then hurries to the door and cocks his tail,To knaw the unfinished bone; the placid cow Looks oer the... Poems - Post by : psalviati - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 1987

To John Clare

Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?The spring is come, and birds are building nests;The old cock robin to the stye is come,With olive feathers and its ruddy breast;And the old cock, with wattles and red comb,Struts with the hens, and seems to like some best,Then crows, and looks about for little crumbs,Swept out by little folks an hour ago;The pigs sleep in the stye; the bookman comes--The little boy lets home-close nesting go,And pockets tops and taws daisies bloom,To look at the new number just laid down,With lots of pictures, and good stories too,And Jack the Giant-killer's... Poems - Post by : ContentSearcher - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 775

The Peasant Poet

He loved the brook's soft sound, The swallow swimming by.He loved the daisy-covered ground, The cloud-bedappled sky.To him the dismal storm appeared The very voice of God;And when the evening rack was reared Stood Moses with his rod.And everything his eyes surveyed, The insects in the brake,Were creatures God Almighty made, He loved them for His sake--A silent man in life's affairs, A thinker from a boy,A peasant in his daily cares, A poet in his joy.(The end)John Clare's poem: Peasant Poet... Poems - Post by : Jeffery - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 1667

I Dreamt Of Robin

I opened the casement this morn at starlight, And, the moment I got out of bed,The daisies were quaking about in their white And the cowslip was nodding its head.The grass was all shivers, the stars were all bright, And Robin that should come at e'en--I thought that I saw him, a ghost by moonlight, Like a stalking horse stand on the green.I went bed agen and did nothing but dream Of Robin and moonlight and flowers.He stood like a shadow transfixed by a stream, And I couldn't forget him for hours.I'd just dropt asleep... Poems - Post by : all4gwp - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 2102

Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall

And will she leave the lowly clowns For silk and satins gay,Her woollen aprons and drab gowns For lady's cold array?And will she leave the wild hedge rose, The redbreast and the wren,And will she leave her Sunday beaus And milk shed in the glen?And will she leave her kind friends allTo be the Lady of the Hall?The cowslips bowed their golden drops, The white thorn white as sheets;The lamb agen the old ewe stops, The wren and robin tweets.And Peggy took her milk pails still, And sang her evening song,To milk her cows... Poems - Post by : galorfindel - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 1428

Bantry Bay

On the eighteenth of October we lay in Bantry Bay, All ready to set sail, with a fresh and steady gale:A fortnight and nine days we in the harbour lay, And no breeze ever reached us or strained a single sail.Three ships of war had we, and the great guns loaded all; But our ships were dead and beaten that had never feared a foe.The winds becalmed around us cared for no cannon ball; They locked us in the harbour and would not let us go.On the nineteenth of October, by eleven of the clock, The... Poems - Post by : Doug_Champigny - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 2475

Secret Love

I hid my love when young till ICouldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;I hid my love to my despiteTill I could not bear to look at light:I dare not gaze upon her faceBut left her memory in each place;Where eer I saw a wild flower lieI kissed and bade my love good bye.I met her in the greenest dellsWhere dewdrops pearl the wood blue bellsThe lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,The bee kissed and went singing by,A sunbeam found a passage there,A gold chain round her neck so fair;As secret as the wild bee's songShe lay there all the... Poems - Post by : shish1 - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3698

From "a Rhapsody"

Sweet solitude, what joy to be alone-- In wild, wood-shady dell to stay for hours.Twould soften hearts if they were hard as stone To see glad butterflies and smiling flowers.Tis pleasant in these quiet lonely places, Where not the voice of man our pleasure mars,To see the little bees with coal black faces Gathering sweets from little flowers like stars.The wind seems calling, though not understood. A voice is speaking; hark, it louder calls.It echoes in the far-outstretching wood. First twas a hum, but now it loudly squalls;And then the pattering rain begins to fall,... Poems - Post by : lansym - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3664

Dewdrops

The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls, and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath the hazels, whitethorns and maples are so like gold beads that I stooped down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my finger. And where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and whitethorn leaves they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than the dews of the morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road grasses are... Poems - Post by : joe_chapuis - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3391

House Or Window Flies

These little window dwellers, in cottages and halls, were always entertaining to me; after dancing in the window all day from sunrise to sunset they would sip of the tea, drink of the beer, and eat of the sugar, and be welcome all summer long. They look like things of mind or fairies, and seem pleased or dull as the weather permits. In many clean cottages and genteel houses, they are allowed every liberty to creep, fly, or do as they like; and seldom or ever do wrong. In fact they are the small or dwarfish portion of our own family,... Poems - Post by : HSPost - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 1044

The Maple Tree

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 flowersUp 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.(The end)John Clare's... Poems - Post by : chrisbrown - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3074

Invitation To Eternity

Say, wilt thou go with me, sweet maid,Say, maiden, wilt thou go with meThrough the valley-depths of shade,Of bright and dark obscurity;Where the path has lost its way,Where the sun forgets the day,Where there's nor light nor life to see,Sweet maiden, wilt thou go with me?Where stones will turn to flooding streams,Where plains will rise like ocean's waves,Where life will fade like visioned dreamsAnd darkness darken into caves,Say, maiden, wilt thou go with meThrough this sad non-identityWhere parents live and are forgot,And sisters live and know us not?Say, maiden, wilt thou go with meIn this strange death of life to be,To... Poems - Post by : sengchan - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 909

Autumn (i Love The Fitful Gust That Shakes)

I love the fitful gust that shakes The casement all the day,And from the glossy elm tree takes The faded leaves away,Twirling them by the window paneWith thousand others down the lane.I love to see the shaking twig Dance till the shut of eve,The sparrow on the cottage rig, Whose chirp would make believeThat Spring was just now flirting byIn Summer's lap with flowers to lie.I love to see the cottage smoke Curl upwards through the trees,The pigeons nestled round the cote On November days like these;The cock upon the dunghill crowing,The mill sails on... Poems - Post by : dog8me - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 8011

Where She Told Her Love

I saw her crop a rose Right early in the day, And I went to kiss the place Where she broke the rose away And I saw the patten rings Where she oer the stile had gone, And I love all other things... Poems - Post by : jlederer - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 2302

Bonny Mary O!

The morning opens fine, bonny Mary O! The robin sings his song by the dairy O!Where the little Jenny wrens cock their tails among the hens, Singing morning's happy songs with Mary O! The swallow's on the wing, bonny Mary O! Where the rushes fringe the spring, bonny Mary O!Where the cowslips do unfold, shaking tassels all of gold, Which make the milk so sweet, bonny Mary O! There's the yellowhammer's nest, bonny Mary O! Where she hides her golden breast, bonny Mary O!On her mystic eggs she dwells, with strange writing on their... Poems - Post by : wawanwh - Date : July 2011 - Author : John Clare - Read : 3187

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