Mistletoe
How box or holly garden walks relieves
How fresh & fine appears the evergreenHow bright the ivy round the oak is seen
& on old thorns the long leaved mistletoe
While dark spurge laurel on the banks below
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Bird of the morn
Bird of the morn
When roseate clouds begin
To show the opening dawn
Thou gladly sing'st it in
& o'er the sweet green fields & happy vales
Thy pleasant song is heard mixed with the morning gales
Bird of the morn
What time the ruddy sun
Smiles on the pleasant corn
Thy singing is begun
Heartfelt & cheering over labourers toil
Who chop in coppice wild & delve the russet soil
To show the opening dawn
Thou gladly sing'st it in
& o'er the sweet green fields & happy vales
Thy pleasant song is heard mixed with the morning gales
Bird of the morn
What time the ruddy sun
Smiles on the pleasant corn
Thy singing is begun
Heartfelt & cheering over labourers toil
Who chop in coppice wild & delve the russet soil
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O Native Scenes
O Native Scenes for ever dear
So blest so happy as I here have been
So charmd with nature in each varied scene
To leave you all is cutting and severe.
Ye hawthorn bushes that from winds would screen
Where oft Ive shelterd from a threatend shower
In youths past bliss in childhoods happy hour
Ye woods Ive wandered seeking out the nest
Ye meadows gay that rear'd rae many a flower
Where pulling cowslips Ive been doubly blest
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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd
The birch tree there
The sycamore all withered in the sun
No leaves are now upon the birch tree there
All now is stript to the cold wintry air
See not one tree but what has lost its leaves
& yet the landscape wears a pleasing hue
The winter chill on his cold bed receives
Foliage which once hung oer the waters blue
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Dithering sit
The boy that scareth from the spiry wheat
The melancholy crow - in hurry weaves
Beneath an ivied tree his sheltering seat
Of rushy flags & sedges tied in sheaves
Or from the field a shock of stubble thieves
There he doth dithering sit & entertain
His eyes with marking the storm-driven leaves
Oft spying nests where he spring eggs had ta'en
& wishing in his heart twas summer-time again
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In sheltered spots
Where slanting banks are always with the sun
The daisy is in blossom even now;
And where warm patches by the hedges run
The cottager when coming home from plough
Brings home a cowslip root in flower to set.
Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met
Setting up little tents about the fields
In sheltered spots.--Primroses when they get
Behind the woods old roots where ivy shields
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Wreaths of snow
Hath crowds of beautys to the man of taste
& oft he walks about on quiet days
Full many things to notice & to praise
Where oer the snow clad fields the little feet
& woods so still he een may hear the sound
Of small wrens footsteps oer the heaving ground
While trees & branches make a splendid show
Of lights & shadows hung in wreaths of snow
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Hidden Treasures
For the "What can we get xxxxxx in your life"... a blatant suggestion... I still have copies of "Hidden Treasures'" (first published Aug 2016) for sale. The fruits of several years labour in the John Clare Archives - most of the poems/prose therin are published for the first time. £7.50 plus P&P. Drop me a line… Find out for yourself what all the fuss is about!
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The winter chill
No leaves are now upon the birch tree there
All now is stript to the cold wintry air
See not one tree but what has lost its leaves
& yet the landscape wears a pleasing hue
The winter chill on his cold bed receives
Foliage which once hung oer the waters blue
Naked & bare the leafless trees repose
Blue headed titmouse now seeks maggots rare
Sluggish & dull the leaf strewn river flows
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Despoiled & bare
Hail scenes of Desolation & despair
Keen Winters over bearing sport & scorn
Torn by his Rage in ruins as you are
To me more pleasing then a summers morn
Your shatter'd scenes appear—despoild & bare
Stript of your clothing naked & forlorn
—Yes Winters havoc wretched as you shine
Dismal to others as your fate may seem
Your fate is pleasing to this heart of mine
Your wildest horrors I the most esteem.—
The ice-bound floods that still with rigour freeze
The snow clothd valley & the naked tree
These sympathising scenes my heart can please
Distress is theirs—& they resemble me
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Melted mild
The sun lookd out the dreary scene to bless
Old winters grinning horrors forcful smild
His flinty bosom thawd wi tenderness
So fiercfull savages have melted mild
Neath the sweet looks of womans lovliness
So poesy thy witcheries so wild
Doth warm the chilly heart of wants distress
& forcful give a joy to natures child
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Friendship of nature
Tis winter & the fields are bare & waste
The air one mass of vapour clouds & storms
The suns broad beams are buried & oercast
& chilly glooms the midday light deforms
Yet comfort now the social bosom warms
Friendship of nature which I hourly prove
Even in this winter scene of frost & storms
Bare fields the frozen lake & leafless grove
Are natures grand religion & true love
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Christmas in the skies
In fancys infant ecstasy
Likening the snow to falling feathers
Climb up the window-seat with glee
& some to view the winter weathers
Laughing with superstitious love
Oer visions wild that youth supplies
Of people pulling geese above
& keeping Christmas in the skies
As tho the homestead trees were drest
In lieu of snow with dancing leaves
As tho the sun-dried martins nest
Instead of ickles hung the eaves
The children hail the happy day—
As if the snow were Aprils grass
& pleasd as neath the warmth of May
Sport oer the water froze to glass
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Numbd & clumpsing
The school boys still their morning rambles take
To neighbouring village school with playing speed
Loitering with pastimes leisure till they quake
Oft looking up the wild geese droves to heed
Making glib slides were they like shadows go
& off they start anew & hasty blow
Their numbd & clumpsing fingures till they glow
Then races with their shadows wildly run
That stride hugh jiants oer the shining snow
In the pale splendour of the winter sun
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Image by my friend #JohnAbbott
Hid in trees
Cheats us into the darkness of the wood
We almost think the day is wearing late
So dreamy is the light that dwells around
& so refreshing is its sombre mood
We feel at once shut out from sun & sky
All the deliciousness of solitude
While sauntering noisless oer the leafy ground
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I love thee nature
I love thee nature in my inmost heart
Go where I will thy truth seems from above
Go where I will thy landscape forms a part
Of heaven—e'en these fens where wood nor grove
Are seen—their very nakedness I love
For one dwells nigh that secret hopes prefer
Above the race of women—like the dove
I mourn her abscence—fate that would deter
My hate for all things—strengthens love for her
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The old fox
The old fox plays & dances round her young
She snuffs & barks if any passes by
& swings her tail and turns prepared to fly
They get all still & lie in safety sure
& out again when everythings secure
& start & snap at blackbirds bouncing by
To fight & catch the great white butterfly
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Image by my friend #CarryAkroyd
Zig zag lane
Tempts me to wander neath the blushing morn
Winding the zig zag lane turning & turning
As winds the crooked fences wilderd thorn
O wheres the eye can gaze upon the dawn
That flushes yon blue sky of cloudless heaven
& gilds the prospect round below—what eye
Can look upon the beautys morn has given
& look unmovd, sure neer a soul thats living
The soul must be extinct who passes bye
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Image by my friend #RachelBurch
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