Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsEmmonsail's Heath In Winter
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Emmonsail's Heath In Winter Post by :drdeswin Category :Poems Author :John Clare Date :July 2011 Read :1091

Click below to download : Emmonsail's Heath In Winter (Format : PDF)

Emmonsail's Heath In Winter

I love to see the old heath's withered brake
Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling,
While the old heron from the lonely lake
Starts slow and flaps his melancholy wing,
And oddling crow in idle motions swing
On the half rotten ashtree's topmost twig,
Beside whose trunk the gipsy makes his bed.
Up flies the bouncing woodcock from the brig
Where a black quagmire quakes beneath the tread,
The fieldfares chatter in the whistling thorn
And for the awe round fields and closen rove,
And coy bumbarrels twenty in a drove
Flit down the hedgerows in the frozen plain
And hang on little twigs and start again.

(The end)
John Clare's poem: Emmonsail's Heath In Winter

If you like this book please share to your friends :

Pleasures Of Fancy Pleasures Of Fancy

Pleasures Of Fancy
A path, old tree, goes by thee crooking on,And through this little gate that claps and bangsAgainst thy rifted trunk, what steps hath gone?Though but a lonely way, yet mystery hangsOer crowds of pastoral scenes recordless here.The boy might climb the nest in thy young boughsThat's slept half an eternity; in fearThe herdsman may have left his startled cowsFor shelter when heaven's thunder voice was near;Here too the woodman on his wallet laidFor pillow may have slept an hour away;And poet pastoral, lover of the shade,Here sat and mused half some long summer dayWhile some old shepherd listened to the lay.(The

Summer Evening (the Frog Half Fearful Jumps Across The Path) Summer Evening (the Frog Half Fearful Jumps Across The Path)

Summer Evening (the Frog Half Fearful Jumps Across The Path)
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,And little mouse that leaves its hole at eveNimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,And grasshoppers in merry moods still wearThe short night weary with their fretting song.Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bankThe yellowhammer flutters in short fearsFrom off its nest hid in the grasses rank,And drops again when no more noise it hears.Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.(The end)John Clare's poem: Summer