Bowd & neath the ground

O much I love thee autumn sere

When fragrant in the mellow year

While dropping leaves & blossoms dead

Makes pillows for thy sunny bed

While faint short wirlwinds puffing bye

Breaths thy latest symphony

& much I love thy checkerd gloom

& dear I love thy waning moon

Where halfway bowd & neath the ground

Like a buble bright & round

The sun streams up till bove the wood

It meets the blue sky red as blood

Daily #JohnClare postings. 

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