Here every tree is strange to me
All foreign things where ere I go
There none where boyhood made a swee
Or clambered up to rob a crow
No hollow tree or woodland bower
Well known when joy was beating high
Where beauty ran to shun a shower
& love took pains to keep her dry
Daily #JohnClare postings.
#photography #poetry #environment
From Helpston in rural Northamptonshire, John Clare was born in 1793. He is now regarded as the most important poet of the natural world from Britain. He wrote many poems, prose and letters about love, sex, corruption and politics, environmental and social change, poverty and folk life. Even in his 'madness', his talents were not diminished. Ronald Blythe, past President of the Clare Society, saw Clare as "... England's most articulate village voice". Clare died, aged 71, in 1864.
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