Remembrances (part)

Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
Dear heart and can it be that such raptures meet decay
I thought them all eternal when by Langley bush I lay
I thought them joys eternal when I used to shout and play
On its bank at 'clink and bandy' 'chock' and 'taw' and ducking stone
Where silence sitteth now on the wild heath as her own
Like a ruin of the past all alone

By Langley bush I roam but the bush hath left its hill
On cowper green I stray tis a desert strange and chill
And spreading lea close oak ere decay had penned its will
To the axe of the spoiler and self interest fell a prey
And cross berry way and old round oaks narrow lane
With its hollow trees like pulpits I shall never see again
Inclosure like a Buonaparte let not a thing remain
It levelled every bush and tree and levelled every hill
And hung the moles for traitors—though the brook is running still
It runs a naked brook cold and chill

1 comment:

The Weaver of Grass said...

The photo of two moles on the wire is quite macabre. I didn't think it was done nowadays. It is some years since I saw a gamekeeper's display - moles, rats, crows - anything he had caught which he wanted to show he was doing his job properly. In John Clare's day it would be usual practice and I'm sure a familiar sight to him. Love his poetry - surely the most evocative of all countryside verse.