Sweet it is to wind the rill
Sweet with thee to climb the hill
On whose lap the bullock free
Chews his cud most placidly
Or oer fallows bare and brown
Beaten sheep-tracks wander down
Where the mole unwearied still
Roots up many a crumbling hill
& the little chumbling mouse
Gnarls the dead weed for her house
Follow me for daily #JohnClare postings.
#photography #poetry #environment
Image by my friend #JohnAbbott
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment