Mary Appleby
I look upon the hedge row flower
I gaze upon the hedge-row tree
I walk alone the silent hour
And think of Mary Appleby
I see her in the brimming streams
I see her in the blooming hour
I hear her in the summer dreams
Of singing bird, and blooming flower
For Mary is the dearest bird
And Mary is the sweetest flower
That in spring bush was ever heard
That ever bloomed on bank or bower
O bonny Mary Appleby

J.L. Cherry, Life and Remains of John Clare
(London and Northampton: Frederick Warne and J. Taylor and Son, 1873)

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